Savoring flavor

I learned years ago from an old winemaker that there is no more flavor in a big bite than in a small one. In fact, there is far more flavor in a small bite than in a big one. The pinch of spice thoughtfully added by the cook is completely missed when shoved hungrily past the taste buds, swallowed nearly whole, a wasted flavor nuance. Such a pity too.

There is so much more to savor when considering all that goes into the food that sustains us: The farmer who senses the land and the weather in a way that is part of who he is; an attentive guardian who tends his wheat fields. The hands that know...

when and how to harvest for the best outcomes; at both the mercy and blessing of Mother Nature on any given day or night. The workers who grind the wheat into meal and flour. The drivers and shopkeepers who bring the flour to market. The baker who rises early in the morning, strong kneading hands preparing a familiar recipe, a pinch of this and a pinch of that. The energy workers whose efforts provide fuel to heat the oven, the mouth-watering smell of a soft-crusted loaf filling the air. A welcoming table generously set for all who wish to share. A moment taken to honor and reflect on such an awe-inspiring journey, followed by a chorus of yummy sounds from smiling faces savoring each soft warm bite.

When times get lean, seems like people divide into two camps: Those who turn to each other and come together; and those who turn against each other and seek to take from one another. The difference between those who participate in bringing bread to the table and those whose interests lie only in consuming the bread is all too clear.

While in New York on wine business many years ago, I had the good fortune of being a guest at a private dinner party hosted by a French Chef and a California winemaker. There were 14 of us seated around a marble-topped horseshoe table, the chef at his island in the center preparing and discussing each course with us; the winemaker standing nearby commenting on why his selected varietals will pair well with each course.

At one point, the chef passed around a white dish containing five tiny and truly exquisite saffron flowers while he described their rarity and delicate nature, adding that in this form they are extraordinary in their expense and extremely difficult to come by. He wanted us to see and appreciate the little flowers before adding them to the next dish he was preparing for us -- the air awash in anticipation.

But then we watched in horror as the man next to me, upon taking the dish, popped two of the little flowers in his mouth -- without hesitation, then folded his arms, looking around, daring anyone to object. The chef had paused to taste the winemaker's lovely Viognier, unaware of the man's greedy deed. When the dish of remaining flowers made it back around to the chef... well, things turned quite nasty.

Security was finally called. The man stormed out, bellowing down the long hallway to the elevators -- only minutes before security arrived.

A precious gift of a few rare and delicate flowers, their unique and subtle flavors unlike any dried or processed version of saffron I'd ever tasted, to be shared and savored by many, and all it took was one selfish consuming maw to violate the honor and connectedness of the moment.

And yet... even though we each received only a small tasting of the saffron bechamel sauce, the soft essence of the delicate flowers lingers in my palatal memories. Unforgettable flavor...

Funny the things we remember, and why.