There are three kinds of oud in the world, my friends.
The Arab School
On the one hand, you've got the thick leathery juices of the Arab houses, full of smoke effects, 'resin' and other heady confections. Designed to withstand the arid Arabian clime and conquer bodily odors in the parching sun of the desert, this juice was originally worn by bedouins sitting around their camels eating camel mandi, shouting "Com-Bo-Di!" with each mouthful, datepalms dropping sweet nectar from above as they then sip hot coffee full of cardamom and spices. Strong flavors all around a hostile climate, where Kyara is just another type of burnable wood, possibly below 'Combodi' on the scale and right above frankincense. This is a land where oud gets lost in the desert wind if it's not heavily fermented. Eaten by the sands. Outbarned by fragrant camel dung. Swallowed up in the glory of mansaf. This is the juice everyone knows and recognizes as Oud.
The Kodo School
On the opposite end of the Orient, you have a Japanese zen master dressed in a Samugi. He sits cross-legged on a tatami, sipping gyokuro. His face looks lifeless due to the meditative state his surroundings are designed to induce, and because all his life he's been told that emotions are not things you show others. There's no furniture, just straw and bamboo artifacts carefully placed according to strict principles of Fusui. Everything is made of some sort of wood or fabric and it appears unaffected by time. ageless, timeless. The master gets up from his gyokuro cup and goes to tend his simmering pot of Jinko. He is out to capture the note of Kyara in his new oil, because Kyara induces meditative states similar to tatamis and samugis and barren living spaces. And of course Fusui. And it helps the soul conceal emotions. His oils are seldom found in the East or the West. They cost a lot of money.
The Fusion School
Between these two extremes, there is the New Oud of the self-taught internet masters. Deeply rooted in the Arabian tradition, it wants to divorce itself from its roots and emulate the emotionless oud of the Japanese master. Rather than spicy coffee, it wants to taste like gyokuro. Rather than camel mandi, it wants to look like sushi. Yet sushi cooked from camel meat tastes rather funky. And gyokuro infused with boiled beans and cardamom pods doesn't always work, either. The oud of the internet masters suffers from split personality disorder.
Some of the issues with Fusion Oud and its 'best of both worlds' approach is that its culinary aesthetic is purely Arab. Yet it wants to don a Samugi and sit cross-legged on a tatami on the sands of the desert. It embraces the soak as the foundational bedrock of its entire cuisine, yet wants none of its juice to smell soaked. In fact, it wants oils that smell as oleoresinous as possible, without any auxiliary notes whatsoever, yet it wants to incorporate everything that is the cause of all auxiliary notes at the heart of its culinary process.
Note: 'Fusion Oud' applies to a good number of EO experiments I've done with my own hands, and in no way constitutes a mockery of anyone else's craft.
The Arab School
On the one hand, you've got the thick leathery juices of the Arab houses, full of smoke effects, 'resin' and other heady confections. Designed to withstand the arid Arabian clime and conquer bodily odors in the parching sun of the desert, this juice was originally worn by bedouins sitting around their camels eating camel mandi, shouting "Com-Bo-Di!" with each mouthful, datepalms dropping sweet nectar from above as they then sip hot coffee full of cardamom and spices. Strong flavors all around a hostile climate, where Kyara is just another type of burnable wood, possibly below 'Combodi' on the scale and right above frankincense. This is a land where oud gets lost in the desert wind if it's not heavily fermented. Eaten by the sands. Outbarned by fragrant camel dung. Swallowed up in the glory of mansaf. This is the juice everyone knows and recognizes as Oud.
The Kodo School
On the opposite end of the Orient, you have a Japanese zen master dressed in a Samugi. He sits cross-legged on a tatami, sipping gyokuro. His face looks lifeless due to the meditative state his surroundings are designed to induce, and because all his life he's been told that emotions are not things you show others. There's no furniture, just straw and bamboo artifacts carefully placed according to strict principles of Fusui. Everything is made of some sort of wood or fabric and it appears unaffected by time. ageless, timeless. The master gets up from his gyokuro cup and goes to tend his simmering pot of Jinko. He is out to capture the note of Kyara in his new oil, because Kyara induces meditative states similar to tatamis and samugis and barren living spaces. And of course Fusui. And it helps the soul conceal emotions. His oils are seldom found in the East or the West. They cost a lot of money.
The Fusion School
Between these two extremes, there is the New Oud of the self-taught internet masters. Deeply rooted in the Arabian tradition, it wants to divorce itself from its roots and emulate the emotionless oud of the Japanese master. Rather than spicy coffee, it wants to taste like gyokuro. Rather than camel mandi, it wants to look like sushi. Yet sushi cooked from camel meat tastes rather funky. And gyokuro infused with boiled beans and cardamom pods doesn't always work, either. The oud of the internet masters suffers from split personality disorder.
Some of the issues with Fusion Oud and its 'best of both worlds' approach is that its culinary aesthetic is purely Arab. Yet it wants to don a Samugi and sit cross-legged on a tatami on the sands of the desert. It embraces the soak as the foundational bedrock of its entire cuisine, yet wants none of its juice to smell soaked. In fact, it wants oils that smell as oleoresinous as possible, without any auxiliary notes whatsoever, yet it wants to incorporate everything that is the cause of all auxiliary notes at the heart of its culinary process.
Note: 'Fusion Oud' applies to a good number of EO experiments I've done with my own hands, and in no way constitutes a mockery of anyone else's craft.