That's My Jam: Andy Greenwald Interviews Eric Ripert

Full Disclosure: I LOVE Andy Greenwald. I'm not sure when I stumbled upon his Hollywood Prospectus podcast with the equally delightful Chris Ryan (RIP Grantland), but, at some point, Greenwald and Ryan became the ultimate curators of my pop culture universe. I'd venture to say that 75% of the books, movies, music, and TV I consume are filtered by way of their new podcast, The Watch (part of The Ringer's network of podcasts).  How much do I love Andy and Chris? So much that I regularly watch their HBO show "After The Thrones," despite never having seen an entire episode of "Game of Thrones."  

Last week, Andy posted an interview with French chef, author, and TV personality, Eric Ripert, promoting Ripert's new memoir, 32 Yolks: From My Mother's Table to Working the Line. The hour-long chat covers everything from growing up in St. Tropez and surviving an abusive relationship with his stepdad, to finding his life's calling (and father figures) in the kitchen. Though Ripert may be considered the "embodiment of elegance and culinary perfection," his joy for the craft weaves effortlessly between the historical significance of the 400 year-old recipes at La Tour d'Argent and his admiration for the simple consistency of Shake Shack. In my favorite portion of the interview, Ripert reveals that the true meddle of a chef is found in their ability to pull off a sauce. Because a sauce, no matter how simple, accents, not overpowers, the main course, while showing a chef's control over ingredients and timing. The secret is, quite literally, in the sauce.

And that's when something occurred to me:

Cooking may be the most ephemeral art form that exists. Most artistry is toiled over for months/years/decades by an artist and, upon release, takes on a second life with its relationship to the audience and their criticism. The finished product doesn't change, only its interpretation does. Cooking, however, is a uniquely singular experience between the chef and the diner. A combination of skills, talent, chemistry, and passion, no two dishes can ever be the same. Sure, you can write down the recipe or take a picture for Instagram, but you'll never be able to truly recapture the moment. An exercise in being completely present, cooking is the perfect metaphor for life itself.