In all honesty, I am not a particularly obsessive person. I am typically a “go with the flow” kind of guy and I endeavor to enjoy and appreciate what life brings my way. But, every once in a while I find myself driven in the pursuit of excellence of one kind or another. There was that time in graduate school where I was in search of the perfect blueberry muffin recipe. Almost every weekend for months the house was filled with the sweet aroma of baking muffins. I had to master new techniques, expand my knowledge of the science and art of baking, and above all resist the temptation to mix the batter too much (a surefire way to generate a tough muffin).
Then there was the search for the world’s best fish and chips that began on a trip to Nova Scotia. During that trip I ate fish and chips at least once each day, exploring the nuances of the dish at each restaurant; haddock vs. cod, the cut of the fillet, texture, flavor, lightness and crispiness of the batter. There were a number of things that surprised me during that trip. First, in a land filled with fresh and delectable seafood and perhaps the world’s best potatoes (it was harvest time on Prince Edward Island), more than once I was served frozen processed fish along with flavorless mass-produced fries. I was amazed to find such mediocrity in an otherwise magical place. Second, after sampling the fare at several fine restaurants and highly touted pubs, I found fish and chips heaven at a small nondescript kiosk on the wharf in Halifax…amazingly fresh haddock with a light, delightfully crispy batter that was cooked to absolute perfection. The fish was so outrageously good that I honestly don’t remember the chips (which may have something to do with the amazing poutine kiosk next door).
I was reminded of this fish and chips adventure last week when I audited the Ecole de Légèreté Instructor Training course in Newville, PA. I had the pleasure of dining with the master instructor Bertrand Ravoux in nearby Shippensburg. We both ordered the fish and chips as I told the Nova Scotia story. This first restaurant was pretty bad. The batter was nonexistent and the fish was cooked so much that it had a tough and chewy texture. As the training progressed, it became a running joke every evening as I was compelled to order the fish and chips at each new restaurant we tried.
While I never found anything more than a mediocre fish and chips, I was touched deeply by the parallels of my obsession with fish and chips and the journey of each and every student in the training. I had the pleasure meeting a group of individuals deeply committed to their pursuit of horsemanship at the highest level. This was not about winning ribbons or achieving fame. Their pursuit was about honoring the horse and ultimately being in a position to pass on their knowledge to others and the next generation. And, unlike my culinary experiences in Shippensburg, they had found the horsemanship equivalent of that amazing kiosk on the wharf. Bertrand Ravoux and the Ecole de Légèreté Instructor Training course demonstrated a commitment to excellence and principles which, in my experience, are rare and to be treasured. I look forward to the next time I ride with them. Perhaps I have found my next obsession in Ecole de Légèreté.
