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Chef putting sauce on a dish

The Spectrum of Craftsmanship

Brian T. Hill
There's a big difference between a furniture store hot dog and a gourmet meal, but we can enjoy both.

I’ve heard it said that mastering a skill takes at least 10,000 hours of intensive practice1. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but mastery clearly only comes after much training, practice, and hard work. This principle applies to craftsmanship, music, sports, and other skills, including cooking.

Talents and skills can be evident and appreciated at any level, without contradiction or hypocrisy. For example, I still have and display crafts made by my children when they were young. For that matter, I still display pieces of my own childhood handiwork. Indeed, the underdeveloped artistry is part of their charm. Yet, some masterworks seem to effortlessly transcend all other creations. I once visited the Prado Museum in Madrid, where I saw a sculpture of a woman wearing a veil. I hadn’t ever considered that such a portrayal was even possible. The sculpture so clearly depicted a woman’s features beneath a flowing veil, that it nearly convinced me that the marble from which it was sculpted must be transparent! While art appreciation is largely subjective, the skill and technique involved in a creation like this is objectively masterful.

I remember attending my children’s orchestra concerts with some amount of trepidation. What clamor would I have to endure? Yet, in every case, I found lovely expressions of music, the students impressing me with their talents. Sure, there were plenty of gaffes and some cringe-inducing sounds, but they still created enjoyable music. I myself have participated in many orchestras, some quite good. However, I still remember when my wife and I first attended a concert of the Seattle Symphony. At the appointed time, the lights dimmed and the hum of light conversation subsided. The audience sat in hushed anticipation as the conductor raised his baton. And then, a beautiful sound emerged and filled the entire concert hall. I was stunned. I had heard beautiful music—and well performed—many times before. This professional, accomplished orchestra, however, showed me the difference between amateur and professional music. Even though I could see nearly 100 musicians playing at once on the stage, I could hear only a single sound. The entire orchestra blended their individual notes together into pure, harmonious music.

My brother loves to regale us with tales of his children’s football games. Their ages and skill level don’t matter. They always encounter tough foes, whom they meet with fierce, daring plays. The contests always provide plenty of heroics, sometimes in triumph and sometimes in defeat. They sound endlessly entertaining, even at the lower leagues. I have also seen tremendous energy and enthusiasm at college football games. The power of 60,000 excited fans is energizing in a stadium, while hundreds of thousands more join from home. Yet, I prefer an NFL contest. I find that the professional players know their assignments better and stick to them with greater discipline. A quarterback must possess much greater skill to read a defense and attack with such precision to get through it. Likewise, defenders must anticipate all the ways the offense can move, never giving too much leeway to any single possibility.

In all these cases, I enjoy both the amateur and the professional productions, though for different reasons. Part of the enjoyment of amateur accomplishment comes precisely from the fact that it is an accomplishment on the part of a developing contributor. The enjoyment of more skilled products comes from the appreciation of the skill and technique involved.

I find the same type of continuum in the culinary arts. On one hand, I can enjoy a free hotdog at the local furniture store’s seasonal sale. That hotdog won’t win any James Beard awards, but it will certainly hit the spot on a hot summer afternoon. The entire continuum of food trucks, hole-in-wall dives, diners, cafés, bistros, restaurants, and other eateries offers many delightful dining experiences. Yet, I have discovered a few of the wonderful dishes that a master chef can do. I love to enjoy their carefully curated dishes, often with ingredients I’ve never heard of. Blends of fresh fruits, vegetables, herbs, and sauces combine in creative ways I haven’t imagined to produce an eruption of flavors that awes and pleases. Even in cooking can we see the spectrum of talent and the result of 10,000 hours of practice.



  1. Evidently, this claim comes from the 2008 book, Outliers: The Story of Success, by Malcolm Gladwell. I haven’t read it, but this rule has since become part of common lore.