At the end of the day, the results are measured by the fact: it has to taste incredible. Sure, food may look neat, be interesting, even cull a fond memory. Brilliant… actually, bullsh!t, if the taste is off, the dish is awful. It can be that black and white. If I do not want to devour the dish, it must be filed. Sure, aspects may be reworked and tweaked; that is how dishes are developed. The problem is knowing when a dish tastes incredible and when an incredible idea gets in the way. More often than not, the dust bin of creativity should be overflowing such that a great dish may shine.
My issue—particularly in developing dishes—is realizing when to say enough. I grow attached to thoughts and believe that in following their path, like the gentleman in Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken,” I may achieve culinary enlightenment. It is not really this sappy, but pride and ego want to succeed in everything. The fact of the matter is that we need to check ourselves often. In being the toughest critic, we may get everything to taste incredible.