Let’s say that you love to cook. So, what do you do? You plan elaborate dinner parties and serve all sorts of tasty and appealing foods. What is the problem? By the time most of the food gets to the table, you can’t stand the sight of it, not to mention it’s yummy flavor. You’ve sampled it ten times already. Who in Hades would want to eat any of it after that?
I will now ask the other chefs and cooks (no, I didn’t say kooks!) that inhabit these here whereabouts to check in with their tales of taste bud madness. I have a strong appreciation for my Danish grandmother, who could put ten or twelve courses on the holiday table. Most incredible of all was that the hot foods were always at the correct temperature when they were served. How my Bedstemor (Danish for enate grandmother) got all of these dishes to arrive at the proper temperature astonishes me to this day.
Finally, I’m always amazed to hear that people are afraid to cook for me. They say that I’m such a food snob (and I am) that they are too intimidated to feed me their own cooking. What they do not realize is that many cooks would rather eat clamshell mush (thanks Walt Kelly) than taste their own concoctions another single time.
Anyway, enough about the “Chef’s Disease”. Let’s hear your tales of culinary woe.
I think I’d be intimidated to cook for you — just because I’d be anxious about making a mistake in front of someone who knows a great deal about food. It was a long time before I was confident enough to cook for my mother, for example. Now I know that there are things she does better, things that I do better, and things we just do differently.
The (admittedly few) times I try to cook lots of different dishes, I’m so overwhelmed by the work and the organisation that I’m too knackered to eat much or appreciate it. Also, one thing will be cold, one thing will be overcooked, and one thing will never get to the table because I’ve forgotten that I’ve cooked it. The first time I cooked for my partner’s parents, I was so tired that I went to sleep as soon as the table was cleared.
I’m learning not to overstretch myself. I wish I could singlehandedly rustle up a banquet of seven or eight perfectly spiced dishes, but I can’t do that — not yet anyway. I’ve learnt that I don’t have to do that to impress people — they’ll be delighted with three dishes. With practice I’ll be able to do more things.
I think part of it is tied up with trying to impress people in the first place. I know I do a better job of cooking when I’m not trying to dazzle people. I hate performance anxiety.
Tansu, your sentiments are so spot on! Please keep on trying to do your best. I cannot tell how difficult it has been to cook for my elders. Merely, that when you do your finest, everything falls into place.
I’m not much of a taster when I cook - I prefer to check things by smell. I’ve gotten pretty good at timing so that everything is ready at once, but I can’t always count on my guests/family to be ready when I am - the heathens!!! And I have been known on occasion to forget a side dish…
Intimidation, huh?? Well, for years, my husband raved about his mother’s pies, so the first few times I baked pies for my inlaws, I was a bit nervous. Then I discovered they’re very easy to please. My mother, OTOH, has had her own catering biz for years. I’ve resigned myself to knowing that I can never do anything in the kitchen to impress her.
Be that as it may, at this stage of my life, I’ll cook for anyone. If you like it, fine. If not, here’s the number to the Chinese take-out place down the road! How’s that for gracious hostessing??
Spritle worked as assistant chef at Maryland Way Inn on Solomons Island (plug) for quite some time. Before that, he worked at Lighthouse Inn, also on SI (also a plug). Both specialize in seafood. Spritle would rather not eat seafood ever again. He’s just plain sick of it.
I thought you were talking about when your nose is running and you have a high fever and your hands are trembling and your eyes are all blurry, and then you lean over and sneeze wetly and heavily into the pot of gumbo you’re stirring.
Zenster, I think your problem is cooking elaborate dinner parties. A have the same problem, but to a lesser extent. i’m just not excited by the food once it’s served. But I get my enjoyment vicariously, by watching other people as they eat my or my wife’s food.
As to cooking for a food snob, it can be difficult. I’ve made a few subtle food mistakes which I regret to this day. Of course if they are your friends or relative, who cares really. The important part is that you offer them a home-cooked meal. Unless your food is really bad, no one will care about a few mistakes. And if it’s not your friend or family, why are you cooking for them? And do you care if they don’t like it?
Two things I would do when cooking for a food snob:
Make your best stuff. Chances are, your favorite foods to make are different than the snob’s. It’s probable that you can make your specialty better than he or she can.
Make something unusual. If it’s strange to the food snob, he can only say whether it tastes good or not. He won’t be able to detect any flaws in the dish, because that requires some knowledge of the dish.
And maybe a third thing too, not just for food snobs, but a good tip for when you want to impress people:
Cook simply. It’s easy to screw up complicated dishes. If you can make a simple dish that’s better then other people’s more complicated dishes you’ll blow them away. Salsa is always a good example of the simple-is-better phenomenon.
Oops, that first sentence didn’t make much sense. It should have read: Zenster, the problem is cooking elaborate dinner parties. Cooking one or two dishes for yourself and family can be quite enjoyable…
Salsa is indeed a simple dish, but it’s still quite possible to be a gastronomic perfectionist when it comes to the details of that simple dish, as I believe Zenster himself demonstrates in the thread you referenced.
Of course you are correct. My point was for simplicity , not againt gastronomic perfectionism. The salsa thread is a good example because many of the recipes there are way too complex for their own good.
I love to cook for people, and I don’t suffer from Chef’s disease - I think the trick is to drink enough wine during the cooking process (a la Julia Child) so that you are quite happy by the time the guests arrive.
That said, Zenster, I ain’t never cooking for you, unless you promised to shut up, eat it, and make appreciative noises. You would also not be allowed to utter the word “authentic” even once.
I am a taster when I cook, so, yes… I am often burned out on the meal by the time I sit down to eat. I can’t honestly judge a dish by smell, because the smell won’t tell me anything about the salt content or any other small nuances.
School has beat in the importance of timing dishes, and it’s something I’ve greatly improved in–the only problem, is when I’m home (or at Grandma’s–where most of the family gatherings are), I don’t have the big industrial 6-burner stove and large oven, which makes getting everything timed just right a challenge. I have a real respect for women who did these amazing dinners on dinky little stoves with the BTUs of a Zippo (or wood-burning stoves, if you go that far enough back)–there is an honest talent in that.
And, by the way, just because I’m just 5 months shy of getting my Le Cordon Bleu diploma, doesn’t mean I’m a food snob. I have a great appreciation for good, simple food as I do for the fancier stuff. I’m more likely to go for a plate of homemade, baked macaroni & cheese than the Piece De Boeuf Pochee Au Vin Rouge Infuse a L’Anis Etoile any day (ok, so the beef does sound damn good, but, like I’d eat that every day?). I know when someone puts their heart in their cooking. That’s good enough for me.
Just don’t serve me fennel. It’s the trendy vegetable here in L.A. and I can’t even stand the sight of it. Bleeeeaaaagh!
How’s that for gracious hostessing??