“You need a lot of bad ideas in order to get a few good ones. “ –Adam Grant
Or you gotta break a few (dozen) eggs to bake a cake–or in my case a few cases. I regularly post pics of food I’ve made on Instagram…almost always of the successes, rarely of the failures. I suppose in the age of filters and thirst for picture perfect “food porn,” documenting epic fails isn’t exactly a great boost for the ego…or your professional LinkedIn profile for that matter. But failure is not only human, it’s necessary for creativity and growth–you know that mantra, “learn from your mistakes.”
My dad was a great believer in that, encouraging me to try out new things even at the risk of abject failure. God knows the poor man gamely ate more than his fair share of anemic rubbery cakes, cement cookies, and science experiment casseroles. I just wish he lived long enough to see me turn things around and truly enjoy the fruits of my labor. Now my older brothers would say that he coddled me, allowed me to get away with significantly more shit, to “fail” so to speak because I was his “baby girl”–which I can’t deny. I’m well aware I lucked out having grown up with a much older, wiser, mellower, more forgiving father than the one who raised them. My version of Dad had a better sense of humor, didn’t freak out when I miserably bombed algebra, chose to attend a university other than UC Berkeley, didn’t major in something “practical” (twice!), then switched gears and went to culinary school. Yet, I would argue that having permission to fail gave me the freedom to be creative and to succeed.
Was I always the best student in college? Nope. I procrastinated until the night before a paper was due to pull an all-nighter pretty much 90% of the time. Somehow I ended up graduating with honors in the major (acing my orals helped). According to Adam Grant, professor of organizational psychology, great ideas often benefit from a healthy dose of procrastination to allow the brain to work out disparate ideas. Pushing through a lot of bad ideas or fails is way for the best stuff to gel or shine through. I surprised myself (and more my family) when I graduated top of my class in culinary school, because I wasn’t necessarily focused on being the best, but simply doing my best–despite unfortunate set backs (don’t get me started on how many times I badly burned or cut myself). I built up confidence in my abilities by screwing up sauces at home and practicing until I got better. Like that scene in Julie & Julia (2009) where Julia Child (Meryl Streep) furiously chops a mountain of onions in her tiny Parisian kitchen, I mercilessly attacked twenty whole Foster Farms chickens (thanks Mom!) with my boning knife. By the time we got to the timed chicken butchery practical, I easily broke down my bird in under two minutes.
In my professional career, failure is quite a different matter. I can fail in the initial stages of working out a dessert, for example, but final execution must be flawless. So, when I can, I fail as much and as often as possible…within reason. That is to say I tinker in small test batches. Better to waste a dozen eggs on six consecutive little crappy batches than a case (160 eggs) on one huge unsalvageable mistake. I don’t expect to get it right the first time (though it has happened on rare occasions). In fact, I expect to fail or not get it quite right a few times before I hit upon the magic formula. And sometimes, a flat-out epic fail is just what I need to jolt me out of complacency. Recently I tried out what I thought was a fool-proof crumpet recipe, created by none other than the “Simon Cowell” of baking shows Paul Hollywood (what it is with the chest-baring shirts?). Nothing seemed ostensibly out of the ordinary in terms of ingredients and instructions. Yet, what I ended up with was an extremely yeasty, stale beer flavored batter that did not cook up into nice tender, airy crumpets. Mary Berry would’ve been displeased.
I based my erroneous assumption that Paul Hollywood’s recipe would be solid purely on his reputation as a judge on The Great British Bake Off. Instead I should have given his recipe the same weight as I would any random recipe I’d find on the internet—assume there are kinks in it, try it out and see what happens. If I bomb, while irritating, it’s fine. Tinker with the recipe or try another one.
One of my favorite binge-worthy cooking/baking competition shows to watch–other than The Great British Bake Off–is Nailed It! on Netflix. I’m obsessed with the deliriously maniacal challenges and balls-to-the walls energy of the contestants, who go in completely aware of their culinary deficiencies, but throw themselves head first towards the train wreck anyway. The fun is watching how creatively they fail because no one truly expects the contestants to perfectly nail the challenge.
Failure is not only educational–don’t try frosting a hot cake–but extremely entertaining. The difference between “nailing it” and “failing” hinges on creativity and resourcefulness in the face of virtually insurmountable adversity (limited time and skills). The winner is the one who can work through all the bad ideas and still come up with something (sort of, if we’re grading on a curve) great.
My advice is keep trying and failing. Don’t assume a recipe is fool-proof because a human being is doing the cooking/baking, not a machine. Tinker until you feel good about what you’ve made. Break a few eggs. Oh…and feel free to tinker with this.
Crumpets (not Paul Hollywood’s)
Yield: about 1 dozen
- 1 1/2 c. whole or low-fat milk, scalded and allowed to cool to just warm
- ½ t. dry active yeast
- 2 t. honey or agave syrup
- 2 2/3 c. all-purpose flour
- 1 c. whole-wheat flour
- 13 oz. warm water
- 1 t. sea salt
- 1 t. baking powder
- vegetable oil for cooking
- 3 ½ – 4” metal crumpet or flan rings
Combine flours and salt in a large mixing bowl. Whisk together yeast, warm milk and honey or agave syrup–then stir into flour mixture. Gradually stir in warm water until batter is the consistency of thick cream. Cover and set aside in a warm, draft-free space for about 1 hr. * Stir in baking powder.
Heat a heavy skillet or griddle with a little vegetable oil on low heat. Place greased crumpet rings onto the heated surface. Ladle enough batter to fill each ring a little more than halfway. Cook first side until bubbles form throughout the surface and the batter is mostly set (about 5-6 mins.). Carefully flip the crumpets with a wide offset spatula and continue to cook the second side for about 3 mins.
Serve warm with butter and jam.
*If you want to save time, proof the batter halfway, then refrigerate overnight. Allow the batter to come up to room temperature before adding the baking powder