Jason Sandeman

Category: Kitchen Wisdom

  • So I Bought a Bag of Green Onions at Costco.

    So I Bought a Bag of Green Onions at Costco.

    Look, I’ve bought these before and I’ll buy them again. 24 green onions for $6.99 is a better deal than 3 for 99 cents — you don’t need a Red Seal to do that math.

    The problem? I have a history with green onions. Specifically, a history of turning them into fridge slime before I get any real use out of them.

    So here’s what happened this time.

    I get home from Costco. These things sat on the counter for six hours while I put groceries away, butchered a pork loin, cooked supper, and played Tetris with the fridge. No room. Green onions lose.

    I managed to use some in a “vegan” kimchi Jjigae ramen. Chopped enough for a small container. That’s 2 out of 24.

    The rest? Spent the night on the counter. In the bag. Same bag they came home in. Same bag Costco had refrigerated before I bought them.

    They’rea in the fridge now. Finally. But the clock is ticking and I’ve got 22 green onions staring at me every time I open the door.

    Ever wonder—So what the hell do I do with these before they go sideways?

  • Sure—skip the apprenticeship. Your tools won’t hide it

    Sure—skip the apprenticeship. Your tools won’t hide it

    Part of: Papa’s Sparks

    GET TO THE POINT PAPA—JUST GIVE ME THE IDEA:

    Tools don’t replace experience—they show it.

    You can know the recipe and still ruin the dish.

    That gap? That’s experience.

    That’s apprenticeship.

    Chef’s office—after shift (uh oh)

    My heart is pounding when I open the door and walk into the office. My sous chef is sitting behind his desk.

    He points to the chair, and says, “Sit.”

    He doesn’t raise his voice right away.

    “Tell me why you put whole peppercorns in the marinade.”

    Just looks at me.

    I’m explaining. Confident. Logical. Already halfway through justifying it.

    I strained the peppercorns. No big deal. Chicken tastes better this way.

    I think I’m being smart.

    He cuts me off.

    “Shut the fuck up.”

    And just like that, I realize I’m not being smart.

    Because I’m thinking about the one time I do it right.

    I’m not thinking about the system.

    The one time someone forgets to strain the peppercorns.
    The one guest who bites down on that peppercorn.
    The one mistake that doesn’t get a second chance.

    I knew what to do.

    I just didn’t understand why it had to be done that way.

    I’m being dangerous.

    And that’s the difference.

    Knowing how something works isn’t the same as knowing how to use it.

    I could execute—but I didn’t understand the system, so I got it wrong.

    That’s knowledge you earn through experience.

    That’s apprenticeship.

    That’s why I’m not apprehensive about AI.

    I’m proof that knowing how something is done doesn’t mean you know how to do it properly.

    That part is earned.

    AI doesn’t replace skill.

    It reveals it.

    You can have the recipe and still ruin the dish. Or someone’s teeth. Or your own.

    You can skip the apprenticeship, but your tools won’t hide it.