An unctuous thought

"Braise some leeks," the chef yells as I work the front-line at a seafood restaurant.

I look at my fellow line-cook and ask, "What does braise mean?"

He shrugs his shoulders, puts his head down and focuses on the New York and sirloin steaks on the broiler.

Feeling too stupid to ask the chef the meaning of braise and too embarrassed to fail, I place the leeks in a hot sauté pan with a tablespoon of olive oil and begin to act like I know what I'm doing.

My lack of knowledge is temporarily abated as the chef nods his approval.

Now things get difficult. As I continue to sauté the leeks, the chef asks, "Don't you think it's time to start the braise?" I nod and flip the leeks in the air with a quick flick of my wrist, looking for the chef's approval — he does not approve.

Looking back at me, he quickly realizes my bluff, storms toward my station and barks, "Give me that!"

The chef adds two ladles of vegetable stock to my sauté pan, turns down the heat and covers the pan with a lid. "Watch those until they are tender, and then go to culinary school you idiot," the chef scolds as he returns to his station. I get the message.

Chefs can be maniacal tyrants, domineering egomaniacs and bullies. Chefs can also be teachers, artists and nurturing craftsmen who are passionate about their profession. Many of the chefs I've worked with are a combination of the two.

Some offer praise and support while others scold and condemn but all are passionate. Regardless of the messenger the message is clear; I do not know my trade.

After work this night I resolve to know my profession. I read about food, attend culinary school, practice my trade and become a professional chef. This thirst for culinary knowledge defines me and in this definition, I must know the meaning of all culinary terms, be able to identify meat cuts and culinary herbs, understand all cooking methods and become knowledgeable of all knife cuts.

Recently, a culinary term has popped into my vernacular of which I was previously unaware. The word is "unctuous." I've used this word in conversation describing a slimy, smooth or suave person but never to describe food.

Watching The Food Network television show "Chopped," I hear chef Aaron Sanchez describe a contestant's gravy as, "smooth and unctuous." Once Sanchez uses the term the other judges feel obligation to use this newly discovered word numerous times describing the contestant's food. Hoping to understand how this word escaped my culinary education, I begin to research unctuous.

In culinary school, I purchased the "Food Lover's Companion; comprehensive definitions of over 4,000 food, wine and culinary terms," to guide me through the numerous culinary terms I don't understand. Unctuous is not in this book. Unsuccessful in my search through my culinary textbooks, I turn to the Internet.

Vocabulary.com suggests you might know the idea of the adjective unctuous by other words like oily, smarmy or overly flattering. When a person is unctuous, you can't trust their kindness, because they usually want something in return.

Interestingly, unctuous is derived from the Latin unctus which means "anointed with oil," which is where the oily connotation comes from. Unctuous and oily are synonyms suggesting someone is trying to butter you up; they're being nice, because they're hoping you'll give them what they want. Talk-show hosts, used-car salesmen, people who want your job; all of these are people we think of (rightly or wrongly) as being unctuous.

Chef Sanchez says many use the word unctuous incorrectly; beef tongue, when done correctly, is one of the most tender meats you will ever eat. However, when done incorrectly, it can be very chewy. Aaron says the tenderness of the beef tongue is directly related to the time taken in the braising process, a slow braising (in water or lard) is the best method. The chef says that a perfectly done beef tongue is the definition of the word "unctuous," a word that those in the biz often misuse.

So, a person can be oily, buttery or slimy and so can food — an unctuous chef can create an unctuous meal. Food Network blogger Princess Luceval writes about Chef Sanchez; "Yes. He looks quite 'unctuous.'"

I'm not sure if she is offering praise or condemnation. I guess I need to do more research.

William Rutherford is an executive chef, psychotherapist and elementary principal who writes about food, psychology and education. To comment on this column, please email him at bprutherford@hotmail.com.