I first came across Charlie Trotter’s cookbook long after his Chicago restaurant had closed, but the idea that cooking could be a pursuit of excellence — a discipline of focus and purpose — stayed with me. Reading his words felt less like following recipes and more like entering a philosophy class disguised as a kitchen. Trotter spoke of cooking as something rigorous, creative, and deeply mindful — an act of immersion.
It made me think of the pool. As a master swimmer, I understand that same pursuit: the quiet repetition of laps, the awareness of form, the rhythm of breath. Every swim is an exercise in mindfulness — a reminder that progress happens stroke by stroke, much like a dish comes together ingredient by ingredient. Both require attention to detail, balance, and respect for process.
During my apprenticeship years in Beverly Hills, we studied Escoffier and Bocuse, learning structure, precision, and timing. Trotter’s voice — philosophical and restless — would have felt foreign then. But now, through swimming and travel, I recognize that pursuit he spoke of. Whether in the water or at the table, it’s the same lesson: excellence isn’t a destination; it’s a practice.
When I finish a good swim and sit down to eat — maybe a simple plate, done right — I think of Trotter’s final advice: forget the recipes, use the photographs as inspiration. In swimming, as in cooking, the guide is only the beginning. What matters is the act itself — mindful, deliberate, and alive.
