FOOD FOR THOUGHT: Through Thick and Thin

Soup and sauce making is a true skill, there's no question, and with either, the foundation of flavor lies in its stock or broth. In the case of thick soups, and most definitely sauces, an important factor to consider is its thickener. When liquid takes on a certain viscosity it coats and stays on the palate longer, thus adding texture and offering the diner added ability to ascertain its natural flavors.

There are, of course, many ways to thicken a stock. It can simply be reduced to syrup through evaporation, which is done by simmering and skimming until a desired consistency is achieved. Other options include the use of an added thickener -- such as cornstarch, flour, potatoes, rice, butter -- and the lesser used and more obsolete method of thickening by adding tempered eggs, just to name a few.

Of those mentioned, the most common thickener is flour, but unlike its counterpart, cornstarch, it should never be merely dissolved and added to a broth -- boiling or not -- at least not with hopes of a promising outcome. Thicken it, yes, raw flour will most definitely thicken liquid, but the flavor and consistency of the soup, sauce, or whatever will be extremely compromised. Most likely the result of adding raw flour will be lumpy and pasty, not only in physical appearance but also in flavor. Cooked flour, on the other hand, is rendered free of these undesirable traits.

So how, you may wonder, do professionals create such satiny smooth and lump-free soups and sauces? The key is roux (pronounced "roo"), or equal parts fat and flour cooked until varying degrees of doneness.

Oh sure, there will be some young culinary Turks who will disagree with this, and conclude that roux is passé. The time honored tradition of using roux has been banished by many, just as it was banished in the late fifties and early sixties when a group of talented young French chefs rocked the unsinkable boat of Cuisine Classique and began serving flourless reduction sauces in what became known as Cuisine Nouvelle. Unfortunately, as brilliant as the chefs were, Nouvelle Cuisine ultimately became somewhat of a parody of their original intentions, just as "tall food" has in more recent years.

I first encountered the anti-roux movement while applying for a sous chef position in New Orleans during the mid-eighties. The chef, nice as he was, was interrogating me with a barrage of questions. Why did I choose cooking as a profession? What is my favorite style of cooking? How do you make this, or that? But it was the gleam in his eye that gave it away when he tucked in his chin and almost whispered -- almost demanded -- in his Franco-Germanic accent, "And you do not thicken demi-glace with roux, no?"

I lied, or at least stretched the truth a little, and said simply, "But of course not chef -- triple reduction and monter au beurre (mounted with butter)." I was hired on the spot, but as fate would have it, I never did end up working at his restaurant.

I met with another chef who openly proclaimed his disdain for roux, and this was close to home and more recently. A few years ago I found myself working as chef at a local restaurant and a new partner was brought into the business -- the new partner happened to be a chef (talk about knowing when your days are numbered). He was also something of a "celebrity chef," so I was told.

Anyhow, this particular chef was pretty vocal about his disrespect for roux. In fact, when he saw me making the substance in question to thicken a demi-glace for a banquet that was scheduled the following evening, his only remark, with his nose in the air, was "I haven't made roux in so long I probably wouldn't know how," in a tone that insinuated that roux-making was the act of a non-human, or at least a cook that was not on the "cutting edge." This statement, I knew, was nonsense, because despite his arrogance he was a good cook. This same cook was also quoted in a local newspaper describing his version of flourless turkey gravy -- highly concentrated turkey stock emulsified with extra-virgin olive oil. However flavorful and trendy it may be, an olive oil and stock emulsification is not gravy.