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laura quade

The best lesson we can learn from James Beard winner Kenji Lôpez-Alt may not be about food.

Updated: Oct 26, 2023

J. Kenji López-Alt’s cooking show is my favorite youtube channel right now.

With a hispanic last name, my Colombian boyfriend was amused to find out that Kenji is not, in fact, Latino. Following 4 months in Medellin, Colombia, I spent 5 months traveling along the east coast of the US. Visiting friends and family between my hometown of Atlanta, Georgia and the most northeastern state of Maine. My late-night return to Medellin on August 24, 2023 felt more like a return home than any place in the States had during those five months. Rather than living in the US, I had returned to Atlanta to visit. I stayed with friends and family; cooking and eating incredibly with my beautiful hosts along the way.

Soaking up a diverse array of cultural staples, I planned to bring the best bits of my experience back to Colombia with me, as I’d brought my Colombian experience to the States.


I brought a Cuisinart Electric Pressure Cooker with me, which seems to have similar capabilities of an instant pot, a set of 10 empty oui jars (which I find myself using for everything from wine to storing spices), a jar of my favorite-ever peanut butter, and a newfound love (can we call it an obsession?) for Kenji Lopez-Alt’s youtube channel.


No more than two weeks before leaving the states, a friend told me about French scrambled eggs. How had I never known this method? Naturally, I immediately searched youtube for a recipe. A few episodes from various chefs and youtube cooks later, I felt satisfied and ready to try my hand at making them myself. But before I could stop the auto-play, this video of James Kenji López-Alt’s Really Good Scrambled Eggs was already rolling. It wasn't the french scrambled eggs I’d been looking for, but they seemed delicious, not too far off, and certainly worth my time to watch.


It didn’t take long before I was captivated by something else in Kenji’s video. Barefoot and modestly prepared, Kenji has a certain quality about him.


Scrolling down, I found I was already subscribed to the channel. (another surprise -- I am not much of a screen (not to mention youtube)-user).


Whether I’m conscious of it or not,


I relentlessly search for examples of parallel play


Kenji does not play in an overt or obnoxious fashion, but he does not mask or hide his play either. Kenji seems to enjoy the hell out of life, which conveniently (for me and for you) includes his work in food. He’s confident without being brusque; distinct yet comfortable.


Kenji is, simply and unapologetically, Kenji, as though we are merely a fly on... his forehead. Kenji does not seem to be cooking for the show or the camera, but for himself; preparing a meal, and inviting us to learn from his process.


This is the essence of parallel play. His confidence allows us to feel calm and comfortable, and in our comfort we are free to sit back, enjoy ourselves, and feel playful... Much like children, our good mood and positive attitude are essential to our ability to receive and learn new information.


Not only does Kenji Lopez-Alt play in parallel, but he is a remarkable model of fusion. And there may be nothing more American than fusion… and apple pie.(..?)


After greeting his viewer, Kenji turns the camera, and places it on his forehead; from then on out, we seem to see what he sees.


Keenly aware that his culinary experience has contributed to a personalized approach to cooking and food preparation, Kenji’s brilliance extends beyond his trained and professional culinary skills. His manner of delivery provides trust in our autonomy. The show is intuitive; teaching through example; encouraging learning to happen through observation. Treated more as peers than students, Kenji does not film to teach a lesson, nor cook to fill a channel any more than he does to fill his, and his family’s bellies.


Traversing his kitchen, Kenji is apt to retrieve an item or two from the fridge, pantry, or drawer; opening a window into his family’s shopping habits and culinary preferences. He doesn’t hesitate to spoil his dog(s), while habits like washing his hands, placing his food waste in a compost bin, and maintaining a tidy workspace seem to be second nature.


We are made to feel as Kenji’s guests; neither directive nor collaborative, he is cooking for himself and his family. His culinary process has developed through practiced experimentation and personal study, and we have simply been given an observational lens to study.


While so much of Kenji’s communication is non-verbal, verbal superfluity is never as evident as in his late night episodes, which notably lack spoken communication. I like to imagine that these episodes are exclusively filmed after a night out with “the guys,” his children and wife have long since gone to bed, and he’s breaking some personal or family rule against late-night cooking. Verbal explanation is deemed redundant as Kenji succinctly models the steps in his process.


It is exactly these subtly playful acts that are most profound.


I wonder if parallel play is ever not subtle, or if play becomes something else once it’s obvious; intentional and candid; interactive and collaborative.


What I love about Kenji’s show is exactly the opposite of what concerns me about so much of our digitalized world. The most effective methods of communication are often our most clever, reserving verbal communication for the essential, and utilizing the non-verbal to maintain positivity in the relationship.


Kenji’s show, absolutely brilliantly, does exactly that.

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