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What’s your theme song?

Music resonates with people on a visceral level, and one of its most powerful components is undoubtedly the song.

Some of these compositions seem to get suck in our heads and effortlessly occupy our minds and mental space.

Occasionally, we acknowledge the presence of an entire song, it’s most prominent melody or some of the song’s catchy lyrics, which subtly linger or becomes integral to our inner thoughts.

Many of us have the same songs that continuously play in our heads for days, months, years, decades, or our entire lives.

For me one of these songs is The Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go

Emerging from the vibrant British punk scene in 1976, The Clash had anarchist sensibilities, composing and playing music that was also danceable.

Yet, why does “Should I Stay or Should I Go” frequently repeat in my mind when other equally noteworthy songs and Clash tracks like “Rock The Casbah” or “London Calling” fail to gain traction?

Maybe it’s because I haven’t traveled to or vacationed in North Africa that the lyrics of “Rock The Casbah” failed to resonate. Similarly, although I’ve stayed in London several times, I never experienced or participated in the highly local anti-racist and anti-police protests and riots of the 1980s, that “London Calling” refers to.

“Should I Stay or Should I Go” accurately captured the zeitgeist of the day, but more importantly perfectly expressed the ambivalence I was experiencing in my life when I first listened to it, a feeling that frequently persists till this day regarding many important decisions surrounding many people, places, and things.

During moments of indecision, when clarity eludes me, I often experience confusion and a sense of immobilization.

It’s at these times, or more appropriately, whenever I feel a significant sense of uncertainty, that the song seems to return.

Seeking advice from individuals, without considering the finer nuances of the source tends to compound the issue, as the guidance I receive is frequently contradictory. Later in life, I determined that while most of the people I consulted had my best interests at heart, they lacked a comprehensive understanding or appreciation for all the contingencies I needed to consider. A crucial realization was that many of these individuals offering advice were not experts in the matter I was dealing with.

Over time, when I’m in a similar situation of indecision, I’ve gravitated to grabbing a piece of paper and writing down the pros and the cons of making a particular decision. Although this process is helpful, it doesn’t always offer a clear resolution.

Nevertheless, my journey with “Should I Stay or Should I Go” serves as a testament to the enduring power of music to mirror our experiences and emotions. It’s a reminder that sometimes, amid life’s complexities, a song can serve as a signifier, used to quickly clarify the exact emotion we are experiencing, thereby echoing our inner conflicts.

In short, we might have multiple theme songs (a playlist, if you want to call it that) which are specific to different situations. They form a background in our mind to enable or perhaps even frustrate us. These songs may even serve as mnemonic devices to help us remember particular scripts on how to deal with people, places, and things that we encounter.

In sum, it’s important to consider your musical companions and the unique ways they have shaped your journey. After all, the beauty of music lies not only in the notes but also in the stories it helps us tell.

Photo Credit:
Title: Joe Strummer, Mick Jones, and Paul Simonon in concert with the Clash in 1980
Photographer: Helge Øverås

My Comida Vasca Adventure

When I try to master a subject or a skill, I often find that learning a complementary body of knowledge or task, enhances my understanding of the original subject. This form of cross-training, akin to my earlier experiences with developing my core expertises, proved valuable in the late spring of 2023 when I decided to explore the world of Basque cuisine.

Why Basque cooking?

Similar to my introduction to Japanese cooking (Washoku), I felt a push pull dynamic.

Having just completed my Bronze Certification in Japanese Cooking, I contemplated my next steps. My options included: work full-time, for two years, in a respected Japanese restaurant in order to earn my Silver Certification; travel to Japan, and take an intensive summer or year-long cooking course; or see if cross-training in a different type of cuisine could expose me to new information and skills that would somehow improve my ability to cook Washoku.

But what type of food?

My family and I have travelled to and vacationed in Spain a handful of times, not only to Madrid, but to Catalonia, Majorca, and the Basque region too. There we’ve visited Bilbao and San Sebastian where we spent a week one Christmas. We have also visited Biarritz, just over the border in France.

And although I had some basic familiarity with Spanish cuisine, the intricacies of Basque cooking was a completely new experience for me. The reason? Despite several family members being adept at preparing delicious Spanish dishes, Basque cuisine remained uncharted territory.

In a nutshell venturing into Basque cooking and cuisine was probably my best next step in my culinary journey. The food and cuisine is highly regarded. There is a strong appreciation for high quality and natural ingredients, it’s embedded in long standing culinary traditions, unique flavors and techniques, it employs a considerable amount of creativity, it’s well documented pintxos culture is attractive, and it boasts numerous Michelin-starred restaurants.

So, all in all learning about Basque cuisine and how to cook selected dishes, just like my path to learning how to master how to cook Washoku, kind of made intuitive sense to me as my next step, even if it was temporary.

How did I go about doing this?

My approach to learning Comida Vasca, mirrored my initial haphazard foray into Japanese cooking. But if I was to summarize the steps, they would be as follows.

First, I bought a couple of appropriate Basque recipe books, selectively reading these works, and experimenting with the recipes inside.

Second, I complimented this activity, and attempted to expand my repertoire of dishes and techniques that I could master by searching the web for written and video recipes.

Third, I set up an Instagram account (@adventuresinbasquecooking) to document and share my Basque culinary endeavors.

Fourth, spending six weeks in the Basque region, especially Bilbao, provided an immersive experience, further catalyzing my culinary exploration.

Fifth, a developing friendship exposed me to local cuisine (like a sardine cookout), and to the amazing hospitality of people who welcomed us even though we were practically strangers to them.

Finally, despite my limited proficiency in Spanish, I enrolled in and completed some cooking classes at The Basque Culinary Institute in San Sebastian.

Stepping up my game

Over the past six months I have read deeper about Basque cuisine, eaten and prepared different typical Basque dishes.

While in the Basque region I ate/drank at numerous Basque restaurants, and pintxo bars.

In those contexts, I tried to deconstruct the ingredients, amounts, and sequencing of the dishes we ate. I also asked waiters, support staff and chefs about the component parts and steps that were used to prepare selective dishes. Over time I got better at discerning different flavors that were central to the cuisine.

I visited the markets where I could buy fresh produce, fish (lots of different types), seafood, pork, and meat with which to prepare the in dishes. Again, I had conversations with the people who cut, assembled, and sold this food (e.g., bonito del nor, bacalao a la vizcaína (Basque-style cod), chuleta (grilled pork), txuleta (steak), etc. ) about how they would prepare and serve these unique dishes.

Though this process I was able to discover many of the central features of Comida Vasca.

While still at the early stages of my Basque culinary journey, I view it not as a pivot but as a form of cross-training, allowing me to draw comparisons between Basque and Japanese cooking techniques.

Not only does this culinary exploration align with my broader philosophy and approach to enhancing expertise through exploring and understanding diverse and complementary knowledge domains, it’s also interesting, exciting and fun.

Some low hanging fruit is just rotten

One of the most significant challenges that creative individuals and teams face involves the decisions they make about their projects. These choices include, but are not limited to, what projects to pursue, whom to work with, which methodologies and techniques to use, how to execute these projects, and where and how to present them to a wider audience.

Each of these decisions, whether conscious or unconscious, involves a series of cost-benefit calculations.

That being said, it’s easy to fall into the trap of going for what seems like the “low-hanging fruit.”

In the academic world, this often translates into working on tasks like developing teaching resources, and researching and writing conference papers, opinion pieces, letters to the editor, encyclopedia entries, book reviews, and chapters in edited scholarly books.

At first glance, these types of projects can seem rewarding. They may provide temporary personal satisfaction, including a sense of accomplishment, and with most of them the joy of finally seeing your ideas and work in print. Moreover, when anyone asks you what you are working on, at the very least you probably won’t look or sound dumbfounded.

And, in the early stages of an academic career, these material items can serve as essential building blocks for establishing a scholarly publishing track record.

Undoubtedly, many scholars, especially those early in their careers, invest substantial resources on topics and with projects that don’t necessarily help them achieve their goals of securing an academic position, earning tenure and promotion. Engaging in this kind of work is sometimes akin to indulging in comfort food—it feels good, but you know it’s not it’s not good for you.

That being said, some colleges and universities, adopting the “something is better than nothing” approach, give the production of these types of publications and resources equal weight in tenure, promotion, and merit decisions.

However, as academics progress in their careers, especially if they are working in highly ranked institutions of higher learning, these types of projects may not significantly advance scholars careers. Why? In most academic circles, (short of the views expressed by adherents to Scholarship Reconsidered), these products are not as valued as articles published in high-status peer-reviewed journals.

Spending one’s resources on low hanging fruit can lead to frustration, missed opportunities, and, in some cases, even depression or job stagnation or loss. Thus, in academic research, it’s essential to go through a conscious decision-making process that makes sense to you. Yes, you can publish in venues where the bar to admission is not that high, but it’s also wise to consider your predicted return on investment and “Who is the audience for your research?”

Just like the student or colleague who tells you, “But I really worked hard on this paper,” you too might spend countless hours on a project, even getting the work published in a highly ranked journal, but if your target audience doesn’t truly care, it may not yield the desired meaningful (scholarly) impact.

Conducting scholarly research is all about making cost-benefit calculations. There are undoubtedly better and worse subjects to write about, methodologies to employ, and venues where your work might appear in print.

In conclusion, making informed choices in academic research involves more than just picking low-hanging fruit. It’s about evaluating the real value and potential impact of your work, considering your intended audience and long-term goals, and making decisions that align with the academic journey you want.

Photo credit:

Photographer: Donyanedomam
Title: Group of Rhesus macaques eating bananas stock photo