Burgers: a tool of culinary education?
Monday, November 16th, 2009I had my fifth hamburger meal in a row tonight and I’m feeling pretty overwhelmed. The flavors, with a few exceptions, all kind of run together in my memory. But that’s cool, because I’m educating my palate, right? Check out this interview with Richard Blais of Flip on BurgerBusiness.com. I especially liked this question and answer:
By offering so many nontraditional burgers, do you see yourself educating the tastebuds of burger lovers?
Looking at the future, I like to think I’m going to have a lot of restaurants that aren’t burgercentric, so I look at Flip as a sort of training ground for a lot of palates. Sort of disguised under this iconic All-American ingredient, the burger, it is a way to get young people to experience lamb or something else they’ve never had before. But they’re much more receptive to it because it’s a burger.
If I have two teens out on a Friday night date and they decide to order the lamb burger, I’m building clientele for the future. And they’re building their palates.
I don’t feel like what we do is that creative. We just try to look at things a little differently.








The first thing you realize is that you can’t continue to arrange and organize your mise en place. You can’t stop to fold your side towel, or give your used pots and pans a rinse as a sign of respect toward the dishwasher. There just isn’t any time for it, literally. There’s only time to push, head down, with no regard to the mess piling up on your station and everyone else’s. Once you can overcome the embarrassment of working in this tornado of an environment, you’ll realize it’s fun. More importantly, a different type of beauty exists in the world of competitive cookery. Add in a handful of chefs and some cameras and you have a whole new world of inspiration.
Often, people ask me where I get my inspiration. I don’t usually have an answer. I may ramble about the farmers’ market, or detail an epiphany I had while visiting a new city. But it’s very difficult to delve into the process in a few sentences. It’s poetic to talk about inspiration being all around you, and that if you just open your eyes wide enough, you’ll see. Smell the roses … or garbage bin, for that matter.
It’s the type of place that doesn’t really feel like a restaurant. You walk in whenever you want. Wearing whatever you want. And sit down without the prerequisite formality of most dining experiences. It’s somewhere between the atmosphere of a diner or Waffle House and that of a high school cafeteria. You’re there to eat. Hang out. Share some good times with friends or family. And you leave with the feeling that you’ve gotten way too good of a deal. Both monetarily and in terms of the food experience. Your boss will love this place for a business lunch. Your mother-in-law from Cincinnati wants to eat there while visiting over the holidays (and that sounds better than having her cook). Your kids won’t feel out of place. Your husband won’t think it’s too fancy. Professionals in the restaurant industry will return to their own workplace and say it was all right, but not good enough to be that busy. That’s when you know you’ve succeeded. A little competitive smack talking is healthy in this industry.
Right now, I’m at a coffee shop. A few moments ago, I signed an autograph on one of those papers you find in front of such places. Probably looks like the one you’re reading now. I’m in a baseball cap, pulled just over my eyes, and a pair of camouflage carpenter shorts I got from Target. And a nondescript navy blue sweatshirt.
In 






