The best lesson we can learn from James Beard winner Kenji Lôpez-Alt may not be about food.

J. Kenji López-Alt’s cooking show is my favorite youtube channel right now. (At the time I first published this piece on the 26th of October, 2023)

With a hispanic last name, my Colombian boyfriend was amused to find out that Kenji is not, in fact, Latino.

Long story short, I randomly stumbled upon this video of James Kenji López-Alt’s Really Good Scrambled Eggs one night and found myself captivated by something else in Kenji’s video. Barefoot and modestly prepared, Kenji has a certain quality about him.

I didn't have to see his face to recognize this quality.

And in fact, Kenji doesn't show his face outside the seconds-long introduction, after which he spins the camera around to share his perspective with his audience.

Whether I’m conscious of it or not,

I relentlessly search for examples of parallel play

Kenji does not play in an overt or obnoxious fashion, but he does not mask or hide his play either. Kenji seems to enjoy the hell out of life, which conveniently (for me and for you) includes his work in food. He’s confident without being brusque; distinct yet comfortable.

Kenji is, simply and unapologetically, Kenji. He does not seem to be cooking for the show or the camera, but for himself; preparing a meal, and inviting us to learn by observing his process.

This is the essence of parallel play.

After greeting his viewer, Kenji turns the camera, and places it on his forehead; from then on out, we seem to share his perspective.

Keenly aware that his culinary experience has contributed to a personalized approach to cooking and food preparation, Kenji’s brilliance extends beyond his trained and professional culinary skills. His manner of delivery provides trust in our autonomy. The show is intuitive; teaching through example; encouraging learning to happen through observation.

Traversing his kitchen, Kenji is apt to retrieve an item or two from the fridge, pantry, or drawer; opening a window into his family’s shopping habits, culinary preferences, and organizational aptitude. He doesn’t hesitate to spoil his dog(s), while habits like washing his hands, placing his food waste in a compost bin, and maintaining a tidy workspace seem to be second nature.

While so much of Kenji’s communication is non-verbal, his late night episodes are my favorite—notably lacking spoken communication. I like to imagine that these episodes are exclusively filmed after a night out with “the guys,” his children and wife have long since gone to bed, and he’s breaking some personal or family rule against late-night cooking. Verbal explanation is deemed redundant as Kenji succinctly models the steps in his process.

These subtle, yet playful acts are truly profound.

It makes me wonder... is parallel play ever not subtle? Perhaps play becomes something else once it’s obvious; intentional and candid; interactive and collaborative.

What I love about Kenji’s show is exactly the opposite of what concerns me about so much of our digitalized world. The most effective methods of communication are often our most clever, reserving verbal communication for the essential, and utilizing the non-verbal to maintain positivity in the relationship.

Kenji’s show is a brilliant example of, what I believe is the most essential form of play.