Pondering Music and Food as a Chef and a Musician

I fell into the world of the chef completely inadvertently. Tumbling out of the comfort of studying into the real world, I needed a job that could be flexible enough to continue with the band but bring some structure and a bit of cash, and wound up working on a street food truck.

5 years later and I'm still cooking. These days I work at a bustling little Taiwanese restaurant in London called BAO who specialise in steamed buns full of Asian fusion goodness. I am proud to say that I have become somewhat of a master craftsman.

My path into music was a little more purposeful. As a child I listened to music constantly and fell in love. Nothing spoke to me with the same clarity. When I started to play the guitar at 13, I felt like I had found a new voice, with in a few years I could speak a new language and started to write music, I had caught the bug and there was no going back.

My good friend Chef Matt Scott hits the nail on the head; as he often does, with his metaphor of the professional kitchen as a pirate ship. It's a strange, unconventional environment in which to work. Loud, hot, cramped, perpetual motion. It sounds tough, and it is but there's something uniquely satisfying about it.

The relationships you form with your kitchen compatriots are forged below deck in the heavy air of the ships bows. Men and women thrown together to keep the boat afloat and sailing straight. There's always leaks to plug – this product hasn't come in, this person has called in sick, this piece of equipment isn't working – but somehow we always pull through. You always need to be on your toes but when the sailing is smooth, and service runs like a well oiled machine, it feels great.

Juxtaposed with intermittent bouts of 'kitchen psychosis', the perpetual roar of the extraction fan, never ending run of buns to be made and claustrophobia getting a bit too much, is the end of the night when you step outside into relative calm feeling like you've done a solid days toil.

Being in a band comes with a similar pirate ship mentality to the kitchen. Hours spent in a hot little room with my soul brothers plying our trade for no one but ourselves, all for that blissful moment of sharing our creation with world. You only reach this goal through determination and a true love for your craft.

Leif Erikson rehearse on the weekends. A considerable sacrifice but one I couldn't imagine not making. On the rare occasions we don't get into the studio I find myself feeling lost, with no purpose.

More late nights and sweat, tired minds and buzzing ears, its a labour of love, but with your crew alongside you this all becomes a little easier to handle.

I must admit, I am no Marco Pierre White. A few of my work mates, however, are consummate chefs and I have been inspired by their passion and commitment for the art of cooking. It feels much the same as the passion and commitment I have had for music over the years. It is an art form you pursue out of love and necessity.

I often daydream about and have been struck by the parallels between food and music beyond just the kitchen and the studio. A quote from Australian author Gregory David Roberts gives an insight into this connection...

Food is music to the body,
Music is the food of the heart

Both food and music are primal and original parts of human nature, and have brought communities together for millennia and sustained both the body and the soul. To gather round a fire and share a meal and sing and beat drums or pluck strings is a pleasure as old as human time. Today, one might instead find themselves in the concert hall singing along, or in a restaurant with friends, but the same sentiment remains. The communal enjoyment of two of life's greatest pleasures, something equally real and inexplicable. Both are backed by a certain amount of theory but beyond this is always pure magic. The magic of creation, the magic of the human response to sensual experience and beauty.

Furthermore, it is an experience that transcends generation and culture. Music is a universal language, of love, of pain, of joy. I have been moved by music from all over the world and across history, and it is highly likely that your favourite food originates from a foreign place or time. My favourite food is falafel: a simple middle eastern concoction of deep fried chickpeas, garlic and spices, which is one of the oldest recipes known to man.

Perhaps it is these primordial origins that put Chef and musician close to the bottom of a list published by the Oxford University Technology Department that predicts the likelihood of certain jobs to be superceded by robots in the near future, with the need for sensitivity and originality in either field. Hopefully some things might resist the onslaught of automation.

Harmony is a favourite concept of mine which I find inescapable when considering cooking or music. A state of simultaneous notes in agreement with one another to form a whole.

I am a big fan of one pot cooking where harmony is essential. I often like to start with onions and garlic, a classic infusion of flavours, not to mention the intoxicating smell, to form your base. Next up are your spices and aromats adding that next level of depth to your creation. This is bulked out with stock and vegetables, and if you’re that way inclined, you may wish to add some meat into the mix. Finally season; salt, pepper, sweetness, acid, those final tones to fill in the gaps. Get it all hot and hopefully you have a hearty, harmonious dish. An amalgamation of component parts working together to form something new and complete.

I like listening to our own music. It gives me enormous satisfaction to observe our creation and admire the mystical beauty of what five separate individuals with their instruments can come together to make. Drums and bass the root, holding it all together. Above this the guitars, finely arranged to create unique tones, and on top this carefully selected keyboard flavours sparkle and glow, everything complementing each other, everything essential. Take away one ingredient and the effect is lost.