From Pastries to Pipettes
Why Cooking and Lab Work are Secret Twins
I say recipes, You say protocol. Let’s (not) call the whole thing off.
Whether you’re conducting an experiment or tempering ganache, laboratory work and cooking have a great deal in common.
Cooking and science have long been intertwined throughout history. Medieval alchemists experimented with distillation, fermentation, and sublimation. The Industrial Revolution spurred innovations in canning and preservation – without which the world would never have known Spam. The modern cookbook, with its list of ingredients and steps, was largely influenced by the work of a British doctor named William Kitchiner. And today, precision fermentation and cultured meat are at the forefront of food sustainability. Not to mention that some of the most popular and venerated cookbooks in circulation today are those that demonstrate scientific rigor in testing, development, and instruction.
Larabee was founded with cooking instruction in mind. And while we quickly discovered that our unique approach to action-based learning had far-reaching applications beyond food, even we were surprised to discover just how much relevance and need existed in laboratory and medical science training.
“If you work in science, you end up with nuclear energy, gibberellic acid, or whatever it is. In cooking, you end up with the chocolate cake. So I’ll take the chocolate cake.”
It makes complete sense: Both cooking and lab work are processes of transformation, where raw materials are combined, manipulated, and altered to achieve a desired outcome. In cooking, this might involve chemical reactions like fermentation or the Maillard reaction to create flavors and textures. Similarly, lab work relies on precise methods like chemical synthesis or purification to transform substances into new compounds or refined forms.
However, Larabee’s focus is not on process similarities but pedagogical similarities. We are interested in the parallels between how information is communicated, remembered, and built on. Below are the key similarities we have found:
Learning is Physical
For both cooking and lab work, success depends on what happens in the physical realm, where tools, materials, objects, and spaces are manipulated in order to reach a desired outcome. Eyes and hands are at constant work, while ears and noses serve as unsung diagnostic tools – listening for the sizzling pan, smelling an overheating machine, or detecting a problematic odor. (The key difference is in the role of the mouth: in the kitchen, it’s a vital barometer for taste and temperature, while in the lab, it’s a bacterial hotbed that can jeopardize sterility if not covered.)
This means that learning to cook or complete a lab procedure shares more in common with other action-based work like firefighting and carpentry than it does conceptually-centered work like writing, analyzing data, or preparing a legal brief. This is not to say that physical jobs are absent of mental knowledge (I hope everyone knows that’s not true) or that cognitive jobs don’t have physical responsibilities. It is to say that how people learn physical actions and skills is different from how people learn concepts, ideas, and facts.
Actions are Sequential
In writing this blog, I have skipped around quite a bit. I first started noodling with the title and chuckling to myself at alliterations and song references. Then, in trying to keep with a musical theme, I attempted to structure an outline by titling each subheading after a song title or famous lyric (e.g. the above “Learning is Physical” title was originally a toss-up between “Let’s Get Physical” and “eyes and ears and mouth and nose”). In the interest of time, I let go of the song idea. Now I’m squarely in the middle, but may abandon this section to massage some of the language of my intro paragraph. At some point I may run a quick errand to Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I don’t know – I don’t know if I’ll have enough time.
The point is, there are certain types of activity that do not have to be completed in sequence in order to be successful. And then there are others that do have to be completed in a sequence in order to be successful. Cooking and lab work is the latter. The completion of one step begets the start of another, and every action builds on the other, culminating in what one hopes is a completed task. Certainly it’s possible that some steps can be taken out of order, but generally that comes with a level of proficiency or guidance.
Classrooms and Books Can Only Take You So Far
Who would you rather have operate on you: a surgeon with decades of experience and crazy dexterity, or a person who has memorized every surgical textbook forwards and backwards but lacks practical experience? The same question could be asked about locksmiths, firefighters, organ procurement nurses, phlebotomists, construction contractors, and – indeed – chefs and lab scientists.
When it comes to knowledge of tactile actions and skills, there is no amount of conceptual understanding that can stand in for experiential know-how. This is called tacit knowledge. This type of knowledge is much harder to put into words or codify, and involves the development of intuition, physical coordination, and a deep understanding of nuances in a given task.
Although it’s hard to articulate, tacit knowledge is easily recognizable. It’s a skilled baker knowing when dough is kneaded to just the right consistency; a seasoned nurse inserting a catheter, a tennis player adjusting the timing and angle of a serve; a mechanic detecting a problem with the engine based on auditory cues; and a really good driver executing the perfect 3-point turn while parallel parking in a narrow spot.
This is why expert mentorship is key. If a learner is left to one’s own devices, then mistakes, bad habits, and a lack of nuanced understanding are at higher rates of occurrence.
If Visualization is King…
Imagine this scenario: A friend calls you out of the blue with a sense of urgency in his tone. “Quick!” he says. “I’m headed to a black-tie event and need to tie a bow tie. Tell me what to do.” (For argument’s sake, let’s pretend online videos and FaceTime are not an option.) How do you see this conversation playing out? If, instead of verbal instructions, you had to write it out, how would you spell out all the instructions?
Nothing moves the soul like the written word. But when it comes to learning action-based skills, written or verbalized words cannot compete with visual demonstration in terms of efficacy, precision, and nuance. There is simply far too much information embodied in visualizing a movement or step. What’s more, written and verbal instructions are subject to interpretation. Something as simple as “gently pull” can be perceived differently by different people. When teachers have to convert actions into words, and learners have to convert those words back into actions, the chances that mistakes are made go up.
Oftentimes written instructions come with a helpful picture or drawing. But for movement based actions, you need movement-based visualization – not static images.
…Then Repetition is Queen
Once upon a time, a mother sat with her child and said, “You’re five years old, so it’s time for you to learn how to tie your shoes.” The mother presented her child with lace-up sneakers and demonstrated the bunny ears method one time. From that day forward, the child had no problem tying shoes.
This story is obviously pure fiction, because anyone who has ever taught a child how to do anything knows: repetition is key. The need to see things more than once is not limited to children – all of us, at one time or another, has uttered the words, “Can I see that again?”
Our need for repetition on a particular action or skill correlates directly with our existing level of proficiency associated with that skill. If you’re an experienced chef or home cook and you’re learning a new culinary technique, you may only need to see it once or twice because you’re building on top of a strong foundation. A novice cook, however, may need to see things over and over again in order for things to make sense and stick. Repetition reinforces learning and begets muscle memory.
I doubt anyone actually believes a single demonstration is enough to teach someone effectively. Yet, how much of teaching is set up that way? A doctor might be shown how to use a shiny new piece of machinery once, but what happens when she or he uses it on their own for the first time the following week and forgets what to do? How often is in-person training set up such that a visual demonstration comes at the beginning, after which the learner is supposed to remember and repeat?
Conclusion
A few years ago, Kurashiki Central Hospital ran a fascinating recruiting competition in which surgical students demonstrated their dexterity and determination by making miniature origami figures and sushi so miniscule it would be fit for a mouse. The justification? “All doctors are booksmart. But they don’t cut us open with books.”
Even though this competition focused on surgical skills, it encapsulated three criteria for excellence that exists in both lab and culinary work: physical dexterity, mental acuity, and termination through obstacles. It goes without saying, there are countless other industries where these three character traits are needed.
So if this is the end goal, Larabee’s question is: are written instructions, static images, and linear videos the best resources to support growth? Are they setting people up to succeed? Or are they simply the best we can do? The answer to all three questions: No.
