I wrote a little something, before I heard the sad news. It is about the acoustic remixes. I would like to dedicate it to Gale Chester and the passion he had for Adam Lambert. It's all I can do, basically. Share that passion.
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Basic Culinary Logic or a Dish of Trespassing, Acoustic-style Every cook has a few culinary tricks up their sleeve, but no matter what their style is, they all share some common culinary sense, or basic logic. For example, if you want to make a saffron risotto, you don’t pour Tabasco sauce in it, you just don’t. No excuse for that, no it’s-my-kitchen-and-I-can-do-whatever-I-want-in-it, or I’m-a-culinary-anarchist-to-hell-with-the-rules nonsense. The reason is the saffron, of course. What would be the point of putting the most exquisite spice in the world in it if you were just going to drown it out with some cheap monstrosity? Saffron is rare, it is expensive and it contains more than 150 volatile and aroma-yielding compounds. It takes a clean tasting environment for it to spread its wings:)
Now, I am not going to compare Adam with saffron because that would be too obvious. Or maybe not?
After hearing those acoustic remixes of Trespassing and Aftermath yesterday, my passion for cooking kicked in and I wanted to take Adam by the shoulders, give him a good shake and tell him that he was being a bad cook, because he hadn’t let me taste his saffron properly before. I wanted to tell him that I love his saffron and apparently, its flavor is best felt when he sings live, or in this case, when someone smart takes out all the Tabasco or Worcestershire sauces out of his soup. Since I have never heard him sing live, my experience of that something extra special, something that has taken a form of an urban legend among us scorned, has depended on living vicariously through my fellow Glamberts and their delicate palates. Not all Adam concert goers have palates delicate enough, but most of them do. That’s why they’re there, that’s why they go again, why they go for more.
Adam’s voice requires that clean, simple environment, for maximum pleasure. The music which accompanies it has to be of the highest quality and of a somewhat delicate, respectful taste. A perfect foundation for his mastery, a supple canvas to his colors. In the studio recordings, you can hear his Arborio rice and his parmigiano reggiano, but you can’t hear his saffron, which is a crying shame, if you ask me. The little chef in me weeps in frustration over it. To be more precise, the little chef in me has started crying over it since yesterday, when I heard the acoustic version of Trespassing. Other Glamberts have tried to say that to me before, but I didn’t believe them, my taste receptors were not refined enough. I have always very feverishly defended all Adam’s choices, always been so fiercely protective over him. Hence the culinary masquerade, it makes this mouthful slide easier down my throat.
There are many food items which can be used as perfect references for the rarity and exquisiteness of Adam’s voice. One of those friends I mentioned, a frequent visitor to Adam’s concerts and an owner of a very sophisticated palate ( [coughs] Quiche 003 [coughs]) has compared Adam singing live with truffles. She said, quote:
“I believe Adam live is like truffles. If you are not familiar with truffles, allow me to explain. Only about 40% of people have the gene that lets them experience the taste of truffles. Oddly, about 80% of people claim to love the taste of truffles when given food with truffles. That 40% of people who can’t taste truffles, but believe they just ate great food are like many fans at an Adam concert: they believe they have the experience, but do not. At every Adam concert there are people who get it, people who think they get it or want to get it, and the small percentage who do not get it and just wonder what is wrong with people.
Trust me — you must see and hear him live. I am serious, it is just different.”
So, what are we going to do with all this? How can we refine our palates? And how can Adam, who handles his cooking so perfectly in the kitchen, manage to transfer that perfection to ready to go meals available in our stores? Do we bust through that kitchen door and let him know what we want and how we want it? Is it considered good table manners, acceptable restaurant etiquette? I think not. Besides, truffles are rare. Saffron, too. They are not something which should be a part of your every day diet, it would be a blasphemy. Are his concerts a treat frequent enough? I am going to vote no and I want it on my plate every day!
No disturbing the chef, though. Especially because this particular chef is very fond to me, not only because of his voice. He is a bit of a food lover himself, a music gourmet; he wants it all there on his plate. His recipes are an eclectic and a little bit all over the place mixture of his past, present and future, his tastes and preferences, his memories and desires, sorrows and loves, mistakes and victories… I love all those ingredients, I just don’t like when the most precious one is hidden. Sometimes, I feel like he is unaware of that specific and unique touch to his flavor. Maybe, in his desire to please the customer, he uses all kinds of ingredients, thinking that no one will notice the absence of that final pinch of spice, that there is enough of him already. Well, my dear chef: it is never enough. We want it all. Especially that final touch of saffron.
So, this is how this heavenly symbiosis goes: Adam as a master chef, we as exquisite connoisseurs and all the perfect ingredients, with a very hot emphasis on all. The final result is an explosion of taste which leaves you breathless and hungry for more. My compliments to the chef, three out of three Michelin stars to the restaurant and a promise for many, many repeated visits.
~o0O0o~
PS/// I am sorry for all the food references, I hope they’re not confusing. Oddly enough, none of my American friends actually cooks. I have no idea why.
#RIP
After hearing those acoustic remixes of Trespassing and Aftermath yesterday, my passion for cooking kicked in and I wanted to take Adam by the shoulders, give him a good shake and tell him that he was being a bad cook, because he hadn’t let me taste his saffron properly before. I wanted to tell him that I love his saffron and apparently, its flavor is best felt when he sings live, or in this case, when someone smart takes out all the Tabasco or Worcestershire sauces out of his soup. Since I have never heard him sing live, my experience of that something extra special, something that has taken a form of an urban legend among us scorned, has depended on living vicariously through my fellow Glamberts and their delicate palates. Not all Adam concert goers have palates delicate enough, but most of them do. That’s why they’re there, that’s why they go again, why they go for more.