I love to cook, as people who know me will affirm. I love to bake as well, but..there is not as much freedom in baking, at least, not for me. You have to have exactly the right proportions, put in in the right order and follow directions. At least, I do, or I get flat inedible hunks of dough.

But when I cook anything else, I rarely cook it exactly the same way twice.

It’s Jazz, baby. Like when Pops Louie Armstrong pulls out that horn and holds it ready in one hand, and suddenly, the simplest song you know becomes something beyond its melody.

My family are big fans of what I lovingly call Root Stew, f’r example. The ingredients change based on what I happen to have in the kitchen, the spices vary by how much we need to be warmed up or calmed down. Beyond the idea that the base soup contains root vegetables, it has yet to be the same dish twice for the last 15 years I’ve been making it.

It’s an easy enough concept, really, slice various exotic root veggies into thin slices, shove them in a broth, and let them cook in the slow cooker for a day, adding variations on spice as desired.

But that’s kinda like saying Pops was a trumpet player. It’s true, but not quite the whole story, y’know?

On this cold New Year’s Day, Root Stew Jazz contained, fennel root from our farm box, leftover leeks, the last of the old onions to clear the basket for the new and a few potatoes for creaminess. Add in a bit of chicken stock, a bit of lemon pepper, and garlic salt (because I was out of garlic) and a good chunk of the savory herbs I keep around. Enough to make pretty colours on the top of the broth, cover and put in the slow cooker from lunch time until everyone gets hungry for dinner. Simple, but...

When you change small things, like add sweet potato and take away the fennel, more leek, less onion, handfuls of frozen garlic cloves instead of garlic salt. Maybe today you have a bit of freezer burned mystery meat, still good, but not a great texture, throw that in and you change the broth. Do you take a stick blender to it just before serving and add Sriracha? Maybe you don’t feel like spice today, but want extra creaminess so you add a bit of grated cheese.

Sometimes it is clear and spicy with big chunks and the broth makes you warm to your toes. Sometimes it’s blended smooth and so thick and creamy it can hold the spoon upright and its just salt and pepper.

Sometimes its more sweet than savory, yams and sweet potatoes and that one last apple, that isn’t bad, but you really don’t want to eat it plain.

It’s Jazz, baby. Swinging hard with a beat you can’t help but bounce to, or slow and sultry, the vocals making you sweat, or soft and melancholy, the blues taking the wheel. Somedays that stew is solid enough and rich enough to feed the work crew at midday in 20 degree weather as they clear ground, sometimes it’s barely more than heat in broth, enough to clear out your ancestor’s sinuses. But always, always love in the middle.

You can label everything that went in the dish, but even so, it’s never the same dish twice, even with all the same base ingredients.

You can tell the Artists from the Technicians in Jazz and in cooking. I make no claim to be either, but my heart follows the Artists.

All my love,

L