A Simple Formula
Greg and I have recently been enjoying a Netflix series called Chef’s Table. If you’re unfamiliar, each show is a deep dive into the story of someone who is either influential or interesting in the foodie world.
Neither of us are especially knowledgeable about said foodie world. I’ve recognized exactly one name out of the maybe eight episodes we’ve watched. We’re both passable cooks, and I’d say moderately adventurous eaters, but we’re not really watching this show to learn techniques or explore new cuisines. I don’t think we’re especially wanting to visit most of the restaurants these exceptionally talented people run (though Greg was inspired to try Roman pizza on a recent trip to Italy due to one chef!).
We enjoy these shows for the gorgeous cinematography and the exceptionally well told stories. The writers have done a superb job of crafting each episode so that by the end of it, you feel like you’ve been right alongside the chef on their remarkable, often tumultuous, journey.
The most recent episode we saw was about Chef José Andrés. He’s a Spanish chef who founded and works with World Central Kitchen (and has been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize for it!), while opening and running multiple restaurants.
Near the start of the show, when he was describing his cooking beginnings, he spoke with great fondness of a simple dish his mother would make. He said that near the end of the month, because his family was not wealthy, the refrigerator would empty. This was not a cause for sadness for him, however, because it meant his mother would make croquetas out of the remnants and leftover scraps.
She gave him the gift of a favorite meal when pickings started to get slim. She gave him another gift, as well, in the attitude she deliberately taught him:
“We can do beautiful things with nothing if we give it the love it deserves.“
Boy, did that resonate with me.
It resonated and it echoed thoughts I’ve heard others share about the nature of beauty and how and where we find it.
Doesn’t it often have shockingly common and humble origins? Doesn’t it have to, so that we can know or relate to, or engage with what we’re seeing or hearing or otherwise sensing?
The mystery, genius, and giftedness in what we find beautiful truly is often in the love bestowed on it by the artist, especially if we’re willing to expand the idea of love to attention, nurture, and arrangement.
It’s not necessarily the stuff itself that stuns us with its beauty, but how it is arranged just so, or in a manner that provokes a particular reaction, or presents us with a perspective we’ve never encountered before.
Chef Andrés learned from his mother that we can create beauty in any sphere if we’re willing to invest ourselves in it.
I know it doesn’t surprise you this made me think of my knitting friends. We can easily forget that incredible transformation we’re performing every time we pick up the needles and turn string into Something Else.
Whether they’re grand projects, like this Crown Prince Square Shawl above or wee ones, like the mini ornaments below, our projects are evidence of Chef Andrés’s mother’s wisdom.
It’s just yarn, friends. Little nothing bits of fluff and color you choose to give your time, attention, care, and love to in order to create something beautiful. I think it’s wonderful!
This week I’ve been working on tutorial videos to go along with my free Christmas Sock pattern.
I updated the pattern a few months ago, but the sample photos desperately needed to be updated as well. I used this pattern years ago to teach the basics of sock knitting and Fair Isle knitting techniques, and now we’re working on making it available as a video course.
It’s been a very long time since I made one of these, but it was fun to make up the samples for better photos. I had a lot to learn about choosing colors with enough contrast in value!
What beauty are you making today?
Happy knitting!
Kiersten J
