Delaying

Delayed gratification is something that seems to be the catchphrase for the purpose of education. We college graduates spend 16 years of our lives slogging away in school, wholly dependent on our parents, guardians or the state for our livelihood. We could have been out working during that time, earning money that could be frittered away in what is, as should be obvious, instant gratification. Instead, we get by on what our parents feel we should receive.

In some cases, of course, the amount that our parents afford us turns out to be more than than the disposable income that most of us earn straight out of college. With the first job comes rent, taxes, car payments, work clothes. At least for those of us who strike out on our own. While in college, there is an allowance, and very few pressing financial commitments. Even student loans are meant to be paid off years after commencement, and those who do work on campus, I must say, generally do not do work even approaching the mental demands of what I, a fresh graduate, am subject to in my job.

I suppose these cases could be considered the reverse. These pampered kids, and I am not necessarily excluding myself from this definition, were delaying an entry into the world of delayed gratification. I imagine that I could have found a job out of high school, and given that I am a pretty smart chap, I might be earning more than I am now. This is, of course, assuming that I am smart enough not to try and make it through the corporate ranks. There are even cases of people who have risen through the ranks of giant corporations, from the mail room to the board room. But why bother to take the hard way out? Stay in school as long as you can, spending whatever your parents deem fit to send you. Work is clearly so much more of a drag than college. Once work commences, disposable income drops, leisure time drops, fun levels drop. Of course, the idea is that after some decades of hard work, the pampered children of some well-to-do parent will achieve some financial strength of their own. But why rush into it? Delay working life. Delay delayed gratification.

But what prompted me to ramble for a few minutes above are the experiences of this weekend. Now, I have been familiar with the technique of braising well-worked muscles of meat animals to break down the connective tissue, thereby making it tender beyond belief, yet retaining the intense flavour not to be found in other cuts. That might seem to be a great example of delayed gratification. To prepare dinner at, say, 7, you begin the work at 3. The meat comes out and is seasoned generously with salt and pepper, and whatever other spices you deem appropriate. Then dice some carrots, onions, celery, whatever vegetables of the like you have onhand. Heat some oil in a pot to smoking, then brown the meat well, letting the surface caramelise, creating a pleasing taste to be had in, at this point, 3.5 hours time. Pull the meat out, and toss in the vegetables to brown lightly, then return the meat to the pot. Pour around the meat some sort of braising liquid. I generally use Merlot and chicken stock, but anything is fine, really. Even water will suffice, actually. Bring it to a simmer, then cover the pot and toss the lot in an oven at 350 for 3 hours. 3 hours later, about half an hour prior to serving, remove the meat from the pot and let it rest in a warm place. I usually just loosely wrap it in foil and sit it on top of the oven. The liquid you now strain into a saucepan and boil. Boil it to death, and you will see fat forming on the surface. Quite disgusting, actually. Skim it off. When it thickens and becomes a slightly viscous liquid, it's a sauce. Carve, plate, serve. 4 hours at least from start to finish, depending on your efficiency. Utterly worth it though.

A very few people who know me also know that I have another preparation that even more fully expresses the principle of delayed gratification. I refer here to scrambled eggs. I hear protests. Scrambled eggs are a couple minutes of work, no more. I agree. But my version is different. Well, it's actually a version from one of Ramsey's cookbooks.

First, you break your eggs into a cold pan, under which you light a very small flame. Break up the yolks and mix it up with a spoon, then pull your butter out of the freezer. (You do freeze your butter, don't you?) With a sharp knife, dice the butter finely, and dump some into the pan. Now stand right there and start stirring. After some time, when the mixture just starts colouring, pour in just a bit of milk and keep stirring. Pull the pan off the stove when it gets too hot, and let it cool somewhat before returning it to the fire. Keep adding milk and butter as the eggs cook, and at the end, you will have a pale yellow gooey pile of eggs on your plate. Season with pepper and salt. (Easy now) It's quite wonderful, really. But it takes about 30 to 45 minutes of standing before a stove and stirring a puddle of eggs that doesn't seem to be cooking. Which is why I don't do it very often. Patience is not one of my virtues.

Scrambled eggs? 45 minutes? You are insane! I hear the critics roar. Well, in my head, anyway. Wait until you read what I shall type next.

Now, pasta is something that most people are familiar with. Packages of dried noodles on a supermarket shelf. Fresh pasta is something else entirely. You begin with flour and eggs. The eggs are crucial, so get the absolute best you can lay your hands on. Dump the flour on a work surface in a mound, the easy part. Now, form a well in the middle of the mound and break your eggs into it. Using a fork, start incorporating the eggs into the flour. Try to keep the well shape by pushing the flour into the walls of the well. Eventually, a gooey mess will form. At this point, start kneading with your hands. Add more flour when necessary, and dust your work surface with the stuff to prevent sticking. When it's a dough, let it rest for maybe 20 minutes, then cut into portions and take a rolling pin to it. What you want is to roll it so thin that you can see right through it. This will take a while. When you have it at the appropriate thickness, use a sharp, dry knife, and cut it into the shapes you desire. You now have freshly made pasta. An alternative to rolling and cutting is to use a machine. Wimps.

Take a large pan, as large as you have, fill it with water and start boiling. Salt it generously. You want the water to taste like it came from the sea. Dump the pasta in and leave it there for 3 hours.

That wasn't a typo. That first batch of pasta you made was not for eating. It was for seasoning the water. By boiling the water with the pasta for hours, you get a richly flavoured water, very important. The better the water, the better the pasta will taste. Now make another batch of pasta. When ready to cook, pull whatever is convenient from the water, and dump in your new batch. Note that this stuff cooks really fast. Like 2 or 3 minutes. Once it floats, remove it. Please don't do something stupid at this point by straining it through a colander. That would waste that wonderful starchy water. Use tongs instead. Proceed to whatever preparation of pasta you favour, using a little bit of the cooking water to loosen the noodle when needed.

There you have it. A 4 to 5 hour ordeal, requiring little technical expertise, but lot of patience, to prepare a meal that is famed for being quick and easy. The improvement is huge, but so is the increase in time. That is what I mean by delayed gratification.