Cookstory: January 16, 2013. Everything In Its Right Place; or, Mise En Place as the Metaphor for Life.

Banana Bread. 
One of the first things an experienced cook learns is the importance of mise en place. It's French for "putting in place," or maybe "getting your shit together." It's so typical of me to start the actual cooking  before I've gathered together all my equipment and measured out all my ingredients. And I should know better at this point, after all the times something has been left out—or even times when I'm at a critical point in the recipe with burners revving on high and I discover that I don't have an ingredient. Bush-league chefery. (Yes, I said "chefery." Patent pending.)

It's not that I don't have all the cute little bowls and plates to set out the elements of the meal; it's that I'm just too damned lazy to take the time to do it. Or, I'm pressed for time, as is so often the case on weeknights, between getting home from work and rushing out to a school meeting or a swim practice. But it shouldn't matter: I should bite the bullet and force myself to perform a complete mise en place before I start cooking, or not take on the recipe at all. Especially if it's my first time taking on the recipe.

Now, when I'm cooking something for someone else, shall we say for "public consumption," I suddenly color myself all professional. This loaf of banana bread was for the classroom celebration of Zuzu's birthday. (Don't you love how birthdays regularly extend out for days on end?) So even before the girls were tucked in, I was weighing flour, preparing the loaf pan, taking eggs out of the fridge to get the chill off of them.... And once they were off to dreamland, I had the full mise en place all good to go. Naturally, when I actually take the time to do this, two things happen: a) the recipe comes together very quickly; and b) no ingredient is left out! The most common mistake I make in the kitchen is easy to thwart with just a little planning.

And by the way, it's more than simply setting out your ingredients: for proper mise en place, you have to sit down and read through the recipe. (Reading it out loud is even better, to make sure you're not skimming over anything.) Sometimes, an extra necessary pan will be hidden in the recipe; or sometimes a common ingredient will not be mentioned in the ingredients list at the top but is key to the recipe. (Most often, I find a measured amount of water tossed into the directions.) There is a time and a place for surprises in the kitchen, but I don't like to do that if I'm sharing my meals with those outside my immediate family. (I'm apparently perfectly happy to make those closest to me my lab rats.)

There's something so satisfying about seeing the ingredients all laid out and organized, awaiting the start of assembly. It reminds me of my days training for marathons, when I would get ready for my long Sunday morning runs. The process of dressing for the run—especially the winter runs—would prepare me mentally and physically: I'd actually feel my heartbeat increase before I stepped out into the brisk air. When I'm cooking, if I take the time to do the mise en place, it puts me in the correct state of mind. It makes me understand that this is what I'm doing now, and I can mentally devote myself to the task at hand.

Mise en place: a metaphor for life.

The real problem with this recipe is that I was preparing it for others, so we ended up getting very little of the bread ourselves. Which means I need to make it again, pronto. I've already put more bananas aside to get overripe in preparation for another loaf. Sadly, that's still many days away.