Standards and Measurements

As with any move, some of the translations have little to do with language. For example, how many milliliters make up an ounce? How many cups in a liter (or litre)? I was struck by my complete lack of ability to translate between the metric measuring system and the standards based measuring system when I went to buy a measuring cup today.

Granted: most of my cooking is done with relative measurements. If I am cooking for one person, I assume one chicken breast is enough. Or a certain measurement of pasta is fitting for a certain amount of water, and both are relative to the number of people eating. Even for most things that require measurements, I needed just to know what one unit would look like, and then I could take a relative measurement: to make a roux I needed to mix equal portions flour and butter. If those portions are tablespoons, hogshead or milliliters, it didn't matter. They just simply needed to be the same.

It only became problematic when I wanted to make risotto. Risotto is not the easiest thing to cook, and requires a lot of ratios and stirring. That said, it's not really all that difficult to make either. With practice, and few crunchy risotto dishes, anyone can make it. Most risottos require a three to one ration of risotto to cooking liquid. So, if one were to make a cup of risotto, they would need three combined cups of liquid, be that liquid stock, wine, water, squid ink, etc. I find two parts chicken stock and one part wine to one part arborio rice works the best; white wine gives it a lighter flavor good for chicken or vegetable risottos (like pumpkin or butternut squash; now that I am saying it, though, I bet a little apple cider would be nice to for the rooty, autumnal vegetables), and red wine works well for beef or mushroom risottos and give the dish a nice purpley-pink color.

It would seem like that the measuring cup I used would not be a problem, and for the most part that was true. The issue arises when I combine the fact that I cook for myself with the tricky issue of the exact specifications for making risotto. Usually, when I cook for myself, I use a half cup of rice. Now, in Wales, quality arborio rice is not cheap. I didn't want to make more than I could eat, but I needed a good sized portion to act as my dinner. So I needed something that had American cups as a standard, not the smaller British cups or the unfathomable metric measurement.

It's not that I have anything against metric. For cooking, especially, the measuring system makes sense since it is based off water: the zero of the system is when water turns to ice, and the 100 measure is where water turns to steam; thus most measurements are based off where water ceases to be water, or where water changes it's physical state (Wikipedia tells us that by contemporary standards, the Celsius unit is based off of the difference between absolute zero and the freezing point of some specially prepared water; more on absolute zero later). This makes a lot more sense than Fahrenheit, which is based in God knows what. In Fahrenheit, as any junior high science teacher will tell you, water freezes at 32 and boils at 212. This, if America really thought about it, made no sense. What matter changes physical properties at 0 and 100 degrees Fahrenheit? Nothing that the average cook uses (the answer, again according to Wikipedia, is a brine made of water, ice, ammonium chloride and salt which freezes at zero Fahrenheit; of course, we all come in contact with this substance routinely, so using that as a standard for a system of measurement makes sense...).

That said, I have used the completely ridiculous Standard Measuring System, developed, mind you, by the Brits, for my whole life. I know that four cups make a quart and that four quarts make a gallon. 16 ounces make a cups. Great. I know that potatoes bake at 400 degrees above which point a random brine solution freezes. I know that I use 1/2 cup of dry rice to make risotto, and I had no idea how many milliliters that might be (236.588, roughly).

The whole problem with Celsius and Fahrenheit rears its ugly head when I look to see what the temperature is outside. The Weather Channel's UK sister site, I found, will list the temperature in Fahrenheit for me, but I didn't see that right away. Nor is this readily available when I am away from my computer. Of course, I could remember that C = 5(F -32)/9. Then, it's just some simple math, which my American education, heavy on the calculator, has deprived me the ability of performing in my head. Either way, when the British say that it should be nice because it will be nearly 25 degrees out, I silently wonder what sadist finds 25 degrees Fahrenheit comfortable. 25 Celsius is actually a quite comfortable 77 degrees Fahrenheit (F = 9C/5 + 32). Now in Chicago, when temperatures get below 0, I start to worry about frostbite, where here, below zero puts it in the thirties, a mild winter by some Northern Illinois standards.

And really, it's a question of relativity. I have associated certain circumstances with a number. Unfortunately, my number is relative to a liquid that I have no regular contact, and thus is meaningless outside of my experience. Though, it should be said that even the very rational Celsius is not perfect. After all, change the atmospheric settings, and water boils and freezes at different temperatures. And since some places don't exist at the requisite 1 atmosphere of pressure (I'm looking at you Colorado), this system is as meaningless as Fahrenheit is. There needs to be a more objective system of measurement, right?

And there is: absolute zero, the theoretical point at which all matter has lost it's energy. Or in simpler terms: space. The vacuum of space is as close as we are going to get to absolute zero. And this unchanging and harsh circumstance is the perfect standard for Earthly measurements. The Kelvin and Rankine systems are designed to shift the two standard measurements to absolute zero, which happens to be 273 degrees below 0 Celsius. Our future generations should be taught one of those temperature systems so later they can think to themselves, how many degrees warmer than the vacuum of space do I need to set the oven to boil water? 573 degrees Kelvin, of course.

Plus baking a potato at 860 degree Rankine makes it seem like cooking is a far more dangerous process than it actually is. And, in the end, that's what we all want: to sound like we risked life and limb for a delicious meal.