Where do you want to end up?

The dish is dull and you know it. This is the acid that wakes it up.

Savoury turned up until it hums. Stack these and stop before it tastes like a stock cube.

Maillard as a flavour, not a technique. Brown everything, then brown it more.

Cut grass, snapped stems, the smell of a garden in June. Heat kills it, so barely cook.

The edge of going off, held there on purpose. Divisive by design.

Fire is an ingredient. Use it like one, not like an accident.

Fat carries flavour and coats the tongue. It also needs something sharp standing next to it.

One drop too many and dinner tastes like soap. Use it like a perfumer, not a cook.

Forest floor, wet soil, cellar. Autumn food, whatever month it is.

Heat is not a flavour, it is a sensation. Give it something to be a sensation about.

Bitterness is the adult taste. Sugar makes it legible instead of erasing it.

The line most cooks are scared of. Cross it deliberately and it reads as confidence.

The antidote course. What you want after something rich shouted at you.

Cold seawater, wet stone, the inside of an oyster shell. Salt is the least of it.

Sugar cooked until it stops being sweet and starts being interesting.