Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
One-upped, snap!
Restaurant openings don’t make front page news in Brookings, but they should. They’re rare as golden goose eggs and (as far as I’m concerned) every bit as valuable. Imagine my delight that we have two new upscale restaurants, a reopening under new management of one of my favorite Mexican restaurants, and an expansion of my friends’ Elliot and Suzie’s restaurant, Suzie Q’s.
I had to share this knowledge with the first person possible: my favorite pharmacist, whom we’ll call Nicole.
“Some new restaurants opened up,” I said.
“Yeah, I know. The Grill is great. Good food, good service, reasonable prices. I’m going to the Nautical Inn tonight, though.”
“Eeeew.”
“Oh, I don’t want to hear that,” said Nicole. “I heard they were good.”
“They’re painfully slow. I hope you like spending all night waiting for your food.”
“Nicole’s an awesome chef,” said Stevie, Nicole’s pharm assistant.
“Really?” I said. “We oughta have a cook-off.”
“You’re a chef, too?” said Stevie. Nicole smiled like the Cheshire Cat.
“Yeah,” I said, bold as Keanu Reeves in Speed. (In other words, a total doofus who acts ballsy, and does a damned unconvincing job of it at that.)
“WELLLLLL, Nicole went to Cordon Bleu, and stayed on as faculty.”
For a moment, we all listened to the sound of tens of thousands of pills settling in their respective bins.
“You’re kidding me,” I said. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”
Nicole told me that the only folks who make any money are the executive chefs. Unless she landed one of those gigs, she’d be making eleven bucks an hour. What she really wants is to save up enough money to open a bed and breakfast.
“So what’s your best dish?” Stevie asked me.
In the face of the real thing, I gagged. No, really. Now I can think of my best dish (sweet potato ravioli in sage and brown butter sauce), but at the moment, I could only come up with focaccia.
“At least, my family seems to like it,” I said, suddenly and unusually humble.
“Yeah,” said Nicole, “focaccia’s easy. Not too many ways to screw it up — you just need to avoid overworking the dough.”
I thought: I knew that.
“Desserts are my weak suit,” I offered, now wallowing in my newfound humility.
“I would have been a pastry chef,” said Nicole.
“She makes an incredible Bundt cake,” said Stevie. “Oh, gaaawd.”
“I’m not baking for you,” Nicole told her.
“How’s your spaghetti?” Stevie asked.
“Nothing special,” I said. “But I do great meatballs.”
“Round meatloaf,” Nicole said.
“Nothing special,” I agree. “But they’re from Marcella Hazan’s cookbook and they’re awfully good.”
“Nicole has tons of cookbooks.”
“I’m drowning in them,” Nicole said.
***
Meanwhile, I’m thinking, I must cook for this woman.
Maybe she’ll reciprocate.
D.
Meanwhile, I’m thinking, I must cook for this woman.
Maybe she’ll reciprocate.
You make it sound almost like cooking is a sexual act.
Come to think of it, though, good cooking is, isn’t it?
I’m only being half a smartass here.
Sexual? No. My motives are both simple and base. I want a meal prepared for me by a Cordon Bleu grad!
Besides, cooking isn’t the sexual part. Eating is. Remember Tom Jones?
Well, then, what about cooking as an act of seduction?
I realize your motives, and, were I in your shoes, I’d share them.
I’m just saying. It may be part of the persistently sensual mood I’m in (which you noted). I find the idea of cooking (and eating: the two are inseparable in my mind. I don’t believe you can be a good cook if you don’t like to eat) as a metaphor for sex an interesting one.
Cooking as an act of seduction? Oh, absolutely. But I’d better not say anything more or I’m gonna get myself into trouble.
Well, it’s stirred a story idea. (hah, stirred!)
Now I need a couple of recipes. For the story.
I’m going to make cheesecake for my cow-orkers next week. I wonder if that counts as a seductive dish? Cheesecake is, in all respects, a sensuous experience.
Do you really want to seduce your cow-orkers? I don’t know about you, but I’m fairly choosy about which cows I ork.
Doug, can I tell you how many ex-chefs I know?
It seems as if it would be a great career, and in culinary school they build you up, but when you get out and start cooking, it becomes completely obvious that this is not a system which encourages financial independence. Or sobriety. Or maintaining a marriage.
In the Bay Area especially, we’re tripping over trained chefs. (And, just to be snarky, Le Cordon Bleu isn’t considered to be All That.)
Have you read Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential? He opens the curtain and tells it like it is better than any other chef-personality I know.
I keep meaning to read Tony Bourdain’s book. Did you hear about how he’s stuck in Lebanon right now? War going on, doncha know.
Okay, I feel better now.
I hadn’t heard that.
I love Bourdain’s take on things. I really enjoyed that round-the-world tasting thing he did.
Just missed you on your little chat-thingie, too. I checked in, see your face, and then bink… you’re gone. Was it something I said? 🙂
Nope. It was one of those rare moments in which neither my wife nor my son were playing World of Warcraft on the other computer, so I hopped off this one and went over to that one. Sorry I missed you!
OMG. He’s IN Lebanon? Oh that is so not good.
I heart Anthony Bourdain.
Doug, you should read his first book at least. Very very true to life. I haven’t read the second one as of yet.
I know you said she’s a friend and all but I thought she came across a bit snooty and condecending. I wouldn’t cook for her, she’d probably just say “Yeah, that was ok.” and crush your heart to satisfy her hungry ego.
Or maybe you just wrote her that way, and I don’t like women much and read too much into stuff and I should shut up and run away.
*runrunrun*
Yup, I just wrote her that way to make it a better story. I’m such a little bitch sometimes.