Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat

by Samin Nosrat

  Let the seasons inspire you; foods that are in season together naturally complement one another on the plate. For example, corn, beans, and squash grow as companions in the field, then the three sisters find their way together into succotash. Tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, and basil become ratatouille, tian, or caponata depending on where you are on the Mediterranean coast. Sage, a hardy winter herb, is a natural complement to winter squash because its leaves—and its flavor—stand up to the cold of winter.

  Pair delicate ingredients that could easily be overwhelmed with clean, bright flavors—light broths, tender herbs, a squeeze of citrus at the end, no browning. Think of spring peas and asparagus, delicate salmon or halibut, or a salad of summer fruits. Other times, the weather, the season, or the occasion demands depth of flavor: aggressive browning of both the aromatics and the meat in a braise, rich stocks, cheeses, mushrooms, anchovies, and savory other ingredients rich in umami. Generally, aim to strike a balance of cleanliness and depth.

  Heavily spice one part of a dish or meal, then keep the rest more or less neutral, echoing a few of the same spices here and there if you like, to prevent overloading your taste buds. Garnish a simple puréed carrot soup with a yogurt raita replete with spices sizzled in ghee. Add just a few cumin seeds to beans and rice, but use them in abundance with chilies and garlic to rub all over skirt steak for tacos.

  If food doesn’t taste right—first turn to the lessons of Salt, Fat, and Acid. Make sure that those three elements are in balance. Most often, that’ll be enough. If a dish still needs something, turn next to umami. Is it falling a little flat? Perhaps a little soy sauce, pounded anchovy, or Parmesan will make the difference. Finally, texture. Is the reason for the dullness its one-note texture? Perhaps it needs the crunch of bread crumbs, toasted nuts, or a pickle to add contrast.

  Scientists have found that we all prefer to eat foods that engage our senses with these kinds of contrasts—including light and dark, sweet and salty, crunchy and silky, hot and cold, and, of course, sweet and sour.

  And then there are herbs and spices, which can wake up the plainest foods. Herb salsas, pepper sauces, a sprinkle of chopped parsley, Lebanese za’atar, or Japanese shichimi togarashi can enliven any dish.

  Invest in the flavors of a dish by layering each upon one another to create a tightly woven matrix of tastes and aromas. Use a single ingredient in multiple ways to add dimension to a dish: a lemon’s zest and its juice; coriander seeds and cilantro leaves; fennel seeds, fronds, and bulbs; fresh peppers and dried chilies; toasted hazelnuts and their oil.

  And if menu writing grows overwhelming, just remember: you already have a lifetime of balanced menu creation under your belt. Whenever you’ve ordered multiple courses at a restaurant, you have practiced this kind of thinking. Every time you choose to order a salad, then split a pasta, main course, and dessert with your dining companion, you’re intuitively creating a balanced meal. Though it can be tempting to order Caesar salad and meatballs and pasta and fried chicken and ice cream, you rarely do, instinctively aware of the price you’ll pay for that kind of excess.

  Every choice you make in the kitchen should have a clear reason. Rare is the kitchen-sink dish or meal that doesn’t taste like a kitchen-sink dish or meal. This is not to say you should never take action to clear out the pantry or the fridge with a meal—quite the contrary!—but that you should decide carefully which ingredients belong together, and which will bring out the best in the others.

  USING RECIPES

  Chef Judy Rodgers once said “Recipes do not make food taste good; people do.” I couldn’t agree more. Most of the time, the path to good food is simple: get the Salt, Fat, and Acid right, and apply the right type of Heat, for the right amount of time. At other times, you’ll need to consult a recipe. Whether for general inspiration or precise step-by-step instruction, a good recipe can be invaluable.

  But recipes lead us to believe that cooking is a linear process, while most good food results from a circular one; like a spiderweb, touch one part and the entire thing will quiver. Earlier in this book, I described the alchemy of the perfect Caesar dressing. Here, for example, the amount of anchovies you add will affect the amount of salt, which will affect the amount of cheese you add, which will affect how much vinegar you need, which may need to be lightened by lemon juice. Every choice is part of a greater whole, with the ultimate goal of achieving the deepest flavor possible.

  Think of a recipe as a snapshot of a dish. The better the recipe, the more detailed, in focus, and striking the photo. But even the most beautiful photos can’t replace the experience of being in a place, smelling its smells, tasting its tastes, hearing its sounds. Just as photos can’t satisfy all of our senses, nor should recipes subvert them.

  A great recipe, like a great photo, tells a story, and it tells it well. Lesser recipes may not connect all the dots. There are plenty of reasons for this, and while some of them may have to do with the skill of the cook or the accuracy of the recipe tester, or frankly, whether the recipe has been tested at all, they’re not important. Simply put, no recipe is infallible. You are the one cooking, you are the one who is present, you are the one who must use all your senses—most of all, common sense—to guide you to the result you hope for. Over the years I’ve constantly been amazed by the way good cooks give up thinking critically and independently when they begin following recipes.

  Instead, once you’ve chosen a recipe, don’t let your own intimate knowledge of your own ingredients and kitchen and, most important, your own taste be overridden by what you’re reading. Be present. Stir, taste, adjust.

  Certain kinds of recipes—particularly those involving desserts—must be followed to the letter. But I believe that most savory recipes are little more than guides, and some guides are better than others. Learn to decipher the secret codes within recipes to see where they are leading you.

  Once you understand that braising, stewing, and making ragù or beef chili all follow the same general trajectory, I hope you’ll feel liberated. Use your judgment to help decide which pan to use, how high to heat it, what fat to use for browning, and how to judge doneness, no matter what the recipe directs.

  Sometimes, you can’t go wrong when you begin with the recipe on the package. The best pumpkin pie I’ve ever tasted was a version of the recipe on the Libby’s canned pumpkin label, with heavy cream substituted for the prescribed canned evaporated milk (indeed, this is the inspiration for the recipe I’ve included in Part Two). The go-to recipe for corn bread at Chez Panisse is a slight variation on the recipe from the back of the Alber’s cornmeal box, made instead with freshly milled Antebellum cornmeal from Anson Mills in South Carolina. And my very favorite chocolate chip cookie of all time involves a tiny riff on the original Toll House recipe: a 1/4 cup increase in the amount of brown sugar and a corresponding decrease in the amount of white sugar.

  When making a dish for the first time, read several different recipes for the same dish and compare notes. Notice which ingredients, techniques, and flavorings are common to the recipes, and which are different. This will give you an idea of which aspects of the dish you must not compromise on, and where a little improvisation is welcome. Over time, as you get to know which chefs and writers are traditionalists, and which take more liberties, you’ll grow better equipped to decide between recipes and cooking styles.

  When making foods from far-off lands, perhaps no ingredient is as important as curiosity. Cooking, and eating, foods from places we’ve never seen is as good a way as any (and better than most!) to expand your horizons, to remember that the world is a big, beautiful place of endless magic and surprise. Let curiosity lead you to new books and magazines, websites, and restaurants, cooking classes, and of course, cities, countries, and continents.

  The nature of cooking is ever-changing. Even the same pile of peas will taste different when cooked on two different days, as their innate sugars transform into starches. They’ll have to be treated differently in order to extract the be
st flavor from them, and that means you need to pay attention and ask yourself what will work best today, here, with these ingredients.

  With all of this—and everything I’ve taught you in Part One—in mind, I’ve compiled my most essential and versatile recipes and recommendations in Part Two. Organized somewhat differently than the recipes in a traditional cookbook, they reflect the patterns and lessons I’ve uncovered in Salt, Fat, Acid, and Heat. Refer to the charts and infographics to set your course. These resources are kind of like training wheels: use them until you feel comfortable cooking without them. Then abandon them, using only the four elements of good cooking as a guide. They are all you will need.

  The other night, as I was watching The Sound of Music for the umpteenth time, unabashedly singing along, I heard a line from “Do-Re-Mi” in a whole new way. It goes: “Once you know the notes to sing, you can sing most anything.” Feel free to imagine my off-key belting as you let this idea sink in. Once you know the basics of Salt, Fat, Acid, and Heat, you can cook most anything, and do it well.

  These are the four notes of the culinary scale; learn your way around them. Verse yourself in the classics, and then begin to improvise like a jazz musician, putting your own spin on the standards.

  Think about Salt, Fat, Acid, and Heat every single time you set out to cook. Choose the right type of Heat for the particular foods you’re cooking. Taste and adjust Salt, Fat, and Acid as you go. Be thoughtful, and use your senses. Consider these four elements when making dishes you’ve made hundreds of times, and use them to find your bearings when cooking exotic foods for the first time. They’ll never let you down.

  CHOOSING TOOLS

  Use this list to help you choose the right tool for every task.

  Serrated Knife vs. Chef’s Knife vs. Paring Knife

  There are only a few proper uses for a serrated knife: slicing bread, tomatoes, and layer cakes. For everything else, use a chef’s knife—the sharper the better. Use a paring knife whenever a task requires precision.

  Wooden Spoon vs. Metal Spoon vs. Rubber Spatula

  Stir cooking foods with a wooden spoon, which is soft enough to avoid damaging the pan but strong enough to scrape off all the browned bits that might stick to the bottom. A metal spoon is ideal for browning ground meat for chili or ragù—you can use the edge to break up the pieces. Use a rubber spatula any time you need to scrape every last drop out of the bowl or pan.

  Frying Pan vs. Dutch Oven

  Use a frying pan for searing, sautéing, or any cooking method where the goal is to brown foods quickly. Use a Dutch oven, with its taller sides, to entrap steam and encourage tough foods to become tender. As it’s deep enough to keep oil from bubbling over, the Dutch oven is also great for deep-frying.

  Baking Sheet vs. Bowl

  A baking sheet lined with parchment paper is the ideal landing pad for blanched vegetables, browned meats, cooked grains, or anything else that needs to cool off quickly without overcooking. When roasting vegetables, croutons, or anything else, toss them together with oil and salt in a bowl to ensure even coverage, and then lay them out on a baking sheet.

  For a complete list of recommended kitchen tools, refer to the endpapers.

  CHOOSING INGREDIENTS

  A Note on Salt

  I’ve got a lot to say about salt. So much, in fact, that I wrote an entire chapter on it. While I recommend reading the Salt chapter before heading into the kitchen with these recipes, I certainly understand if you can’t help yourself.

  If you get to a recipe that doesn’t specify the type or amount of salt to use, use what you’ve got on hand (unless it’s iodized table salt, in which case you should throw it out and head straight to the store to buy kosher or sea salt). Start with a pinch or two of salt, then taste early and often in the cooking process to get where you want to go, adjusting the seasoning along the way.

  Refer to the Salting Guidelines to see just how much the weight (and saltiness!) of a single tablespoon of salt will vary depending on the type. Hint: it’s a lot. For this reason, I encourage you to start with my guidelines as your benchmarks until you get a feel of how much salt it takes to properly season various foods. I’ve tested these recipes with both Diamond Crystal brand kosher salt (the red box) and fine sea salt from the grocery store bulk bin. Morton brand kosher salt (the blue box) is almost twice as salty by volume, so if you’re cooking with that, use half as much kosher salt as the recipes indicate.

  Where Not to Skimp

  Most of the recipes that follow call for ingredients that can be found in any grocery store. But I splurge on a few items, and I suggest you do too. Good cooking starts with good ingredients. You’ll thank me when you’re sitting down to the most delicious dinner you’ve ever cooked.

  Buy the best you can afford

  • Extra-virgin Olive Oil, pressed in the last calendar year

  • Whole chunks of Parmigiano-Reggiano from Italy

  • Chocolate and Cocoa Powder

  Buy whole and prepare yourself

  • Pick and chop fresh herbs (and always use Italian or flat-leaf parsley).

  • Juice lemons and limes

  • Peel, chop, and pound garlic

  • Grind spices

  • Soak, rinse, filet, and chop salt-packed anchovies

  • Make chicken stock when you can (see for a recipe). Or buy fresh or frozen stock from your butcher, rather than the boxed or canned stuff (it never tastes as good). Failing that, use water.

  For a complete list of basic pantry items I recommend, refer to the endpapers. And for more details about selecting ingredients, flip a few pages back to What to Cook?

  A FEW BASIC HOW-TOS

  SALADS

  My maman is a fantastic cook. Her kitchen boasts a broad variety of foods and flavors, from tender lamb shanks to puddings scented with rosewater. But she only ever serves one of two salads at our dinner table: Persian cucumber, tomato, and onion, or Shirazi Salad, and a romaine-pecorino–sun-dried tomato number. As a child, I quickly grew bored with salad. By the time I left for college, I’d disavowed it altogether.

  Then I ended up at Chez Panisse, which may as well be called Alice’s House of Salads because if there were ever a restaurant built on the supremacy of salad, it’s Chez Panisse. I once heard Jacques Pépin say he could judge a cook’s skill by how well he cooks an egg. For Alice—and by extension all of us who’ve worked for her—salad reveals everything she needs to know about a cook.

  At Chez Panisse, I learned to build a salad—a great one—out of anything: any vegetable, fruit, or herb, beans, grains, fish, meat, eggs, or nuts. As with all good cooking, get the Salt, Fat, and Acid in a salad right, and it will be delicious. For bonus points, add crunchy ingredients for textural variety and umami-rich ingredients for a flavor boost. For inspiration, look to salads such as Wedge, Caesar, and Cobb, which remain classics precisely because they achieve this ideal balance of tastes and textures.

  Familiarize yourself with the following basic salad recipes, then begin to improvise with the ideal salad checklist in mind. Choose a flavor direction, and use the fat, acid, and herb combinations that reflect the tastes you seek.

  From vibrant, raw seasonal produce to fresh-tasting herbs and vinaigrettes, every ingredient in a salad can be beautiful and delicious. Learn to dress salads properly, by tossing ingredients in a bowl with your hands, which will do an immeasurably better job than tongs or a wooden spoon. Let your fingers feel when all of the leaves are coated, then taste and adjust the seasoning as needed.

  For salads with multiple components, such as avocado with heirloom tomato and cucumber (page 217), dress the less delicate cucumber slices in a bowl with salt and vinaigrette. Alternate various colors of tomato slices on the platter, then top with spoonfuls of avocado and season with salt and vinaigrette, then spoon the cucumbers around. Finish the salad—and indeed any salad—with the most delicate ingredients of all, a billowing nest of herbs or tiny arugula leaves tossed with a whisper of dressing and a l
ittle more salt.

  Avocado Salad Matrix

  Rich and creamy, avocados are one of my favorite affordable luxuries. You can easily build an elegant salad out of a ripe one. And since avocados pair well with all sorts of crunchy and acidic fruits and vegetables, instead of giving you a single recipe for avocado salad, I’ve organized a bunch of possibilities into this matrix.

  An avocado salad will make any meal more special, a point I once proved by bringing avocados, blood oranges, salt, and good olive oil to a yoga workshop. During our lunch break, we had a surprise birthday potluck for one of our classmates. I made a simple salad by slicing the citrus and laying it out on a platter, spooning the avocado on top, and then seasoning both with olive oil and salt. Served in the back of the gym, the salad was so refreshing and unexpected that everyone who tasted it still tells me it was the best salad of their life, even a decade later!

  To make enough salad for about 4 people, begin with one ripe avocado (you can always add more to your liking!), and refer to the chart to see which other ingredients and dressings to add into your salad. Let the rest of your meal dictate the direction of the salad, from Morocco to Mexico to Thailand. No matter how you proceed, every single version will be improved by the counterpoint of a big pile of herbs, some shaved fennel bulb, or a handful of arugula.