principles, practices, and the four elements – Portugal Resident

This could suggest that whipping up a tasty meal that everyone will like is an impossible affair. Yet we enjoy tasty meals daily, whether at a restaurant or at the hands of our friends and mothers. This begs the question — how is it that we can cook up flavour? What kind of knowledge and awareness could help us do so with confidence?

An ingredient doesn’t become a dish until it is combined with others, and there are helpful ways of understanding what goes together. In their book The Art of Flavour, Daniel Patterson and Mandy Aftel propose four principles that govern how flavour works and can guide our cooking.

Similar ingredients need a contrasting flavour. Complementarity is deeply comforting, yet it is the path of least resistance. We quickly grow bored of purely harmonious notes and seek a point of difference. Think what a simple sprinkle of sea salt can do on top of a chocolate and caramel fondant.

Contrasting ingredients need a unifying flavour. Juxtaposing very different ingredients creates an interesting proposition for our senses, but it can feel overwhelming without a bridge. Imagine a kale and radicchio salad with dried cranberries, goat cheese, and nuts, where the fatty, earthy nuts and creamy-salty cheese act as the “glue” that balances the bitter and sweet elements.

Heavy flavours need a lifting note. Dishes built around lingering base notes can become bland and unmemorable if left unchecked. A rich, comforting stew is soothing but not particularly exciting. A spoonful of persillade — a parsley and garlic sauce, often enhanced with olive oil, lemon juice, or vinegar — can easily liven up the plate and breathe life into the dish.

Light flavours need a grounding note. Light flavours can be engaging and potent, but they often need a foundation to feel satisfying. Vegetables or grains can taste insubstantial without a deeper element. Think of a cucumber and fennel salad grounded with a tahini dressing and/or shavings of aged cheese.

Two additional “magical phenomena”, as Patterson and Aftel call them, help us practise these principles successfully: locking and burying. Locking occurs when the marriage of ingredients creates something greater than the sum of its parts — that transcendent harmony we experience when strawberry meets vanilla, or in the complexity of a Mexican mole with 25 or more ingredients. We build our “flavour library” of successful combinations through continuous cooking, tasting, smelling, and assessing.

Burying, on the other hand, happens when one or two ingredients hijack the dish. This usually occurs when proportions or intensity are misjudged. The delicate balance of a ceviche, for example, relies on just the right amount of acidity to cook and contrast the fish; too much citrus quickly overpowers it.

Practising these principles, along with locking and burying, is greatly aided by the lens provided by Samin Nosrat, who views flavour through the four elements of salt, fat, acid, and heat. Salt amplifies taste and releases aromatic compounds. Heat transforms food, both by breaking down complex components into more enjoyable forms and by creating new flavours through reactions like the Maillard browning. Fat carries and delivers flavour, adding richness and luxury. Finally, acid balances and brightens, cutting through heaviness and making all the other elements pop.

Ultimately, great cooking is not about memorising endless recipes but about understanding these timeless principles and elements. With curiosity, practice, and attention, we can move beyond chance and cook flavour with increasing confidence and joy — creating meals that resonate on a deeply personal and universal level.

Dr. Irina Mikhailava, a chef, a trainer and a good food champion, happily residing in Algarve and eating all over the world with an appetite for learning, sharing and writing. Instagram: incompanyoffood.

Read more about food from Let’s talk about taste: the science behind every bite