I am a Chef. In 1976 my wife Phyllis and I bought the historic Baron of Beef Restaurant in Albuquerque's Old Town. The proprietor at that time was David Daw, born Batu Dorgon. Raised in China, he immigrated to Japan in 1933 and was there during World War II. During that time he aquired an excellent education in the culinary arts. After the end of the war, he arrived in Albuquerque by a circuitous route. When I knew him he was quite charming, and was an accomplished chef. Part of our deal for the restaurant was that he teach us his recipes. We learned much of stir frying brussels sprouts and eggs, and of how mushrooms are fluffed up over seriously high heat. Several days were spent on a highly technical education in Chicken Cashew and the use of the wok. We also learned how he used the Teriaki Sauce.

One afternoon he came in and declared: "Today we learn Teriaki"! He then proceeded to do Teriaki. He was fast, as we good chefs are. He described each move sparsely and concisely. The whole process was quick talk, move fast while measuring spices out by the handful, and a fast throw of it all together. He then told us how it should be treated over the next couple days, and left. He left thinking that he had demonstrated the recipe to us, that that was enough for that, and whatever we remembered wouldn't be quite what we had seen. What he didn't know was that after taking a BS in Geology, and my formal Chef's training with my old partner Robert Bentley of Casa Vieja in Corrales, New Mexico, I was a decent chef, and a seriously accomplished note taker. While he was showing us how it was done, I had written down the whole thing, quickly and quite unnoticed. I made up my own batch the next day. When David came back several days later, the Teriaki was done and we had bottled up both batches. He and I compared the two. He allowed that I had understood the recipe, and that it was well done. I agreed, and have followed this same recipe ever since. In many years of experience, I have yet to encounter it's peer.