Tap The Power Sometimes A Little Water Is What’s Needed For A Perfect Sauce

Watery. Watered-down. Waterlogged. All these are terms of contempt, expressing a fear that water as an ingredient will dilute any flavor past the point of no return.

But perfectly decent dishes are often served at less than their best just because the cook didn’t add the drops of restorative fluid that would have given the pasta a smooth texture, made the vinaigrette delicate, imparted the perfect consistency to the sauce.

I have learned, through experimentation and accident, from Vietnamese ingredients and great French chefs, that water is the most important ingredient in cooking.

Imagine, for instance, that you over-reduced the cream sauce for your pasta; it’s sitting there, gummy and dry. A few judiciously applied drops of water can bring back its consistency. Of course, a few more drops can turn it into a puddle. Like salt and pepper, water requires a deft and experienced hand.

It took me a long time to learn this. Once upon a time, I never considered adding water to a vinaigrette. To balance the flavors and achieve the right consistency, I struggled with oil and vinegar and everything else on the shelf - but not water.

More often than not, adding vinegar to an overly oily dressing only seemed to make it too sharp. With more oil, it was too heavy. I’d go back and forth and end up with gallons of a vinaigrette I didn’t really like.

A moment of revelation came when I was learning a technique in a different part of the kitchen. The chef taught me to add a little warm water to vegetables that had separated and become greasy when cooked in butter too long. A vigorous shake of the pan after adding the water re-emulsified the butter into a creamier, less greasy state.

The words “less greasy” ignited my mind. Why couldn’t a vinaigrette be degreased in a similar way? I tried adding some water to my vinaigrette. It helped balance the flavors nicely.

I have since applied the technique in many ways. At a Vietnamese restaurant, I learned the lesson of “nuoc cham.” Nothing but chili paste, sugar, fish sauce and lime juice, garnished with a few delicate strips of vegetables, nuoc cham is a complex and delicate sauce - spicy, salty, tart and sweet flavors, suspended in water.

If it were made with soybean paste or mayonnaise or even chicken stock, would its character remain true? No. Any distinctive background noise would surely detract from its fragile balance, its natural simplicity. Only water has the clarity to allow the flavors to retain their individuality and the power to unite them.

As I began to embrace water as a vital ingredient, I began to encounter resistance. “No, no,” one chef always said when I tried to make a water-based sauce. “Chicken stock!” It was true, chicken stock would achieve similar results in terms of consistency. The catch is that if all sauces are thinned with chicken stock, they all taste like chicken.

Take romesco, a Spanish sauce made by beating olive oil into a mixture of roasted tomatoes, peppers and garlic along with almonds and stale bread. By its nature, it tends to be too thick to serve as is. But when I diluted romesco with chicken stock, the flavors were blurred by the strong chicken taste.

So when the chef’s back was turned, I grabbed my pitcher of water. Just a little water brought the romesco to the desired consistency without compromising the balance of flavor - as with the nuoc cham.

Since you are a water being, on a watery planet, now you, too, can discover the power you have on tap.

Romesco Sauce

2 large or 4 small red bell peppers

1 fresh poblano chili, optional

4 ripe plum tomatoes

7 garlic cloves, peeled

1 (3-inch) piece crusty baguette, or 6 ounces of any good bread

1 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1/2 cup sliced almonds

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1 to 2 tablespoons water

Salt and black pepper

2 drops Mexican-style hot sauce

In hot oven or over open flame, roast red peppers and poblano chili until black, then remove to bowl (poblano needs less blackening than hot peppers). Cover bowl tightly and let sit for no longer than 5 minutes. Peel and seed peppers by hand. Do not rinse; some seeds and charred skin are OK. Reserve.

Char whole tomatoes in ungreased saute pan, turning after 2 to 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook until garlic begins to char and tomatoes have charred a spot on each side. Cool, cut tomatoes in quarters and set aside.

Rip bread into small pieces. Sprinkle with 1 tablespoon olive oil. Toast in 400-degree oven until thoroughly dry and beginning to brown. Grind bread to mediumrough consistency in blender or processor; don’t over-process. Set aside.

In food processor, puree red peppers, charred tomatoes, garlic and poblano chili 3 seconds. Add bread crumbs and blend. Remove of puree to bowl.

Toast almonds in 400-degree oven until golden brown, about 5 minutes. When almonds are golden brown, quickly and carefully add directly into food processor and blend until smooth. Almonds should be hot enough to sizzle when added (this keeps flavor of almonds in sauce).

Return remainder of sauce to processor and, with machine running, add remaining olive oil, lemon juice, then water to desired consistency. Season with salt, black pepper and Mexican hot sauce to taste.

Yield: 3 cups.

Nuoc Cham

2 small cloves garlic, crushed

2 tablespoons plus teaspoon sugar

1 small fresh red chili, seeded and minced

2 tablespoons lime juice

1/4 cup rice vinegar

1/4 cup water

1/4 cup nuoc mam (fish sauce, available in Asian markets)

1 small carrot

1 small white turnip or daikon radish

Combine garlic, 2 tablespoons sugar and chili in mortar. Grind to paste. Stir in lime juice, vinegar, water and fish sauce. Or, use food processor or blender, pureeing garlic, 2 tablespoons sugar, chili, lime juice, vinegar, water and fish sauce until sugar is fully dissolved.

Shred carrot and turnip and toss with remaining 1/4 teaspoon sugar. Let stand 10 minutes and add to sauce before serving.

Yield: 1-1/2 cups.

MEMO: Gavril Lourie is a Los Angeles chef and food writer.