My formative years in the kitchen occurred at a time when things were done a certain way and that’s how you did them, even if you didn’t understand why. Many of those standards were in place for good reason and still hold up today. But over the years, I’ve come to realize there’s a lot more wiggle room than I thought, especially when you sprinkle in some science. I’ve also set aside the notion that I should love something just because everybody else does. So in the spirit of setting a good example for our students, I’m sharing some points of disagreement that may prove unpopular with the experts. (And that’s okay.)

1. Barbecued Pork Should Be Pulled

I live in a culture where smoked pork is a way of life. It’s a combination of sport, hobby, and religion, and almost everyone knows someone who dabbles in it. Local churches and volunteer fire departments forego the traditional bake sale fundraisers in favor of offering whole barbecued pork butts, cooked low and slow on grills so enormous they ride on wheels and require a license plate. We don’t engage in foolish disputes about which meats or sauces are superior, having already settled these matters to our satisfaction.

And when it comes to dismantling the massive hunk of meat, pulling is the only way to go.

This is where I wander from the pack while quietly keeping my opinion to myself--until now. Long before I knew what a myofibril was, I realized that a mouthful of long, stringy meat fibers was less pleasant to eat than petite chunks cut across the grain for maximum tenderness. I realize there’s a degree of efficiency in the two-fork shred, which goes quickly and is almost impossible to mess up. And I have eaten and enjoyed many pulled pork sandwiches. (I mean a LOT.) It’s not that they’re bad. I just think we can do better.

So if you come over for dinner and my husband’s barbecued pork is on the menu, don’t be surprised to see the knife and cutting board come out in place of pulling implements. I’m not rejecting tradition. I’m improving it.

2. All Chopped Vegetables Should Be the Same Shape and Size

I’ve heard/read/seen this edict preached for the entirety of my 40 years of cooking. I’ll admit there are situations where vegetable uniformity is important. But for a home cook, it’s a standard that’s often unreasonable and sometimes undesirable.

Vegetables don’t come to us as tidy cubes, ready to be divided into smaller, evenly-scaled subsets. They often have an uneven form that includes curved edges. We can shoot for uniformity, but for a certain percentage of the cuts, we’ll be limping along, doing our best to even things out. And that’s okay because…

Variations in size can improve the finished dish. I’m so convinced of this that I intentionally mix things up on the cutting board. In a stew, larger chunks of potato hold their shape and bulk up the dish, while smaller pieces break up and melt into the gravy, adding body and heartiness. Pan-seared brussels sprouts are better if some leaves fall away and char during cooking. Roasting carrots on a sheet pan? Be sure to slice some into thin slivers that will caramelize and crisp into tasty bits that improve both flavor and texture.

3. Panko Makes the Best Breading

Just say no to panko! I feel so strongly about this that I’ve thought about putting it on t-shirts.

“It’s so crunchy!” Yes. Like shards of glass or grains of sand. Is it just me? Is my mouth more tender than that of the average human? I just don’t get it.

4. Rice Grains Should Not Stick Together

To some degree, this standard is rooted in a bygone era that many are too young to remember. Back in the day, TV commercials engaged in rice-shaming to boost sales of convenience foods, even hinting that sticky rice could end your marriage. Don’t believe me? Check this out:

The stickiness of rice (or lack thereof) and whether it’s desirable depends on the particular variety of rice, the particular meal being served, and the particular preferences of the eaters. Most of the time, I prefer rice with enough adhesion to mind its manners on a fork, so that’s how I cook it. I’m ashamed to admit that those mid-century ideals cast such a long shadow that when I serve it to guests, I explain that the stickiness is intentional. (Cue another reference to a bygone era.)

5. Brioche Buns Make Burgers Better

I love brioche. It truly is magnificent stuff. But the very factors that give it star status among enriched breads make it sub-par for burgers.

First, there’s the texture. It’s light, airy, and pillowy-soft, as the head notes for nearly every brioche recipe proclaim. Any meat patty worth its salt will make quick work of such delicate encasement, especially if the fixins are done right. I prefer a bun with the structural integrity to see the effort through to the very last bite.

Then there’s the almost unavoidable dose of sugar. It’s not the brioche’s fault. But for some reason, the burger buns are almost always sweetened. Here you’ve got a beefy umami bomb accented with tangy sauce, sour pickles, savory onions, and a slice of melting cheese. Why would they put it on something akin to an unglazed donut? I’ll admit that I’m not a huge fan of the sweet and savory interplay anyway, but it just seems like the fancy-pantsification of common foods has taken a wrong turn this time.

So there. I said it all. Well, not all, but it’s a start. One of our goals at Inquisicook is to empower students to cook food the way they like it. Not switching things up for the sake of weirdness, but rather zeroing in on what improves or detracts from a dish and adjusting accordingly. Because a generation of thoughtful kitchen renegades might just make the world a tastier place.