Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Culinary pariahs
Apologies for the profanity. Food makes me passionate.
Some folks love food, some just eat it. If you don’t know what this gizmo is, you’re probably in the latter group.
Hey, nothing wrong with that. I don’t look down my nose at folks who don’t know their cassoulet from a hole in the ground. But can I give you some advice? If you come over to my house and I make you cassoulet, don’t (A) insult me for the fact I spent several days preparing this for you, or (B) refuse to ever invite me to your house for dinner, since for you it’s all about one-upsmanship, and you don’t want to put out the effort, or (C) forget to show up in the first place. Yes, all of those things have happened to me, some of them more than once.
I like cooking for people. Know what I made for my wife and son tonight? Homemade ravioli with two different fillings (spinach and cheese, and sweet potato) and two different sauces (tomato sauce for the first, sage and browned butter for the second). Yes, it was delicious. No, it wasn’t that much work (about two hours prep time). Yes, I’d do it again.
But not for some people.
I think certain individuals are just plain mean-spirited. Cooking is an act of love. If I fix a four- or five-course meal for my guests, it means I like you. A lot. And yet, over the years, some of our guests have acted as though I had done this to show off, or to humiliate them because, I don’t know, they’re used to eating TV dinners and I’m just rubbing it in. How should I know why they start acting like dicks?
One of the post-docs at my lab in grad school was like that. We had him, his wife, and his kids over for dinner. I can’t remember what I made — this was a jillion years ago — but back then, I usually made barbecued shrimp (Cajun style, not shrimp-on-the-barbie). Really not a big deal, but this couple had expected hamburgers, and they acted as though I had delivered the supreme insult. They never invited us to their house, and we never invited them back to ours.
Sometimes I feel like such a centerfold. Dislikes? Rude people!
Don’t get me wrong; many of our friends do the right thing when they come over. They tell me how wonderful everything tastes (can’t get enough of that, you know). Better still is when they eat everything and/or take home leftovers. And they invite us back to their homes for dinner.
It’s not that tough. If my guests like their dinner, they should say so. Then say thank you. Then reciprocate.
Sometimes I want to shake these people by the shoulders: What did your mother teach you? I am not trying to intimidate you — punctuated by a few bitch slaps at this point — I’m trying to fucking entertain you!
Oh. By the way. If I make you a five-course Indian meal, including homemade cheese for the palak paneer, and homemade naan, for the love of God don’t stab me in the back professionally. Twice. Because, you know, you’re not getting invited back to my house if you do that. Ever. You know who you are, asshole. If I invite you back to my house, it’s only so I can piss in your lemonade*.
D.
*My wife urges me to mention that I do not obsess over revenge. She’s right. I don’t.
Much.
Oh, Doug!
I LOVE to cook and bake, especially cookies. Thanksgiving is THE holiday for me and even though everyone I know delegates dishes to others so it’s like a pot luck, I do it all myself (except for deviled eggs – for some unknown reason I just don’t like making deviled eggs). It’s just… wow! Love it, love it, love it. Even with the love, it always disappoints me when after all the work and planning and everything’s fresh and good, it’s all sucked up in 10 minutes like it was picked up at a McDonald’s drive through. And as soon as they’re stuffed, most everyone wanders off without so much as an “It was good, thanks!”
Sigh.
I’ve never made indian food or cassoulet, or even used a pasta crimper, but I bet it’s lovely. I’m sorry you don’t have better guests and if you ever come to Central Iowa, let me know. It might not be fancy, but I’ll feed you well.
It’s too bad we don’t live closer, Doug*. I’d be grilling you on technique over dinner (’cause I’m insatiably curious, not out of any desire to outdo you), and swapping recipes over dessert. My closest friend (besides Dean) and I bonded over food – at least once a year, we try to recreate an entire menu from Epicurious. One of their complicated ones. It’s an all-day event, and the preparation is the entertainment. I enjoy the planning and cooking as much as the meal itself.
Oh, and rude people suck. Totally.
*I’m not assuming we’d be invited over, but if we were, we’d reciprocate in a heartbeat.
I completely agree with kitten: rude people do suck. And my mouth is watering from just reading your post. I’d be positively gushing if I were invited over. (Is that not the worst pun you’ve heard in days?)
How awful. They wouldn’t be invited back to my house, for sure.
My stepdad is a chef, so properly cooking and appreciating food was something I learned in my teens. I’m passing that along to the kids, and meals are a daily adventure for us, but I don’t invite strangers into the mix. We take the Japanese approach and whisk our visitors out to dinner at a good restaurant.
A five-course Indian meal with homemade cheese and naan? Can I become your new best friend?
Hmmm. I’m not an especially great cook–I’m by nature incapable of following a recipe exactly. Sometimes this is a good thing, like the pizza dough last night that would’ve been boring until I changed some ingredients & added others, but sometimes it’s not. And sometimes it’s a challenge cooking for people with horribly pedestrian tastes. (When I met my husband, he ate cheeseburgers and fries for lunch and dinner every day. It was an event when I got him to try sloppy joes instead.)
But I do like to cook, and I’m with you on the rudeness. It took me years & years to convince my in-laws that I liked making big holiday dinners, and that, no, it wasn’t a compliment when they said Thanksgiving would be just as good with turkey, potatoes, and salad. Oh, and maybe that green bean casserole with the mushroom soup & french fried onions. Of course, it also took me years & years to realize they weren’t intentionally rude–I think, like your friends, they thought I was trying to show off or something.
Oh, btw. That pastamaker? Whatta wimp. When I was a kid, my 80-pound grandmother used to make pasta by hand, with no other utensils than a fork, a knife, and a rolling pin. 😉 The woman also used to make freaking meringue with a fork. Unbelievable.
I’m not among the great cooks of the world but I can, occasionally, put forth a spread. And it does indeed suck when it’s not appreciated. Or when some a** picks up the salt shaker before picking up the fork. Some people have never been invited back – of course, after I reprimanded them for that particular faux pas they probably wouldn’t want to…
BTW – I made my second batch of your bread pudding the other day. This time I used the bourbon – only 1/2 of a nip – but it was a leap of faith for me as I’ve believed myself to NOT be a fan of whiskey. The Bourbon Cream Sauce is an excellent garnish for this oh so yummy bread pudding. Next up? The Scones!
p.s. can you tell I don’t know shit about html… I really didn’t mean for more than the first word to be in bold.
Mmmmmmm…food…*droooooool*. What? Oh, yes, rude people = massive suckage. 🙁 I got distractred by the mention of all that food.
Mmmmm, cassoulet. If your other guests don’t like it, I’d be glad to come over and eat their shares instead 😉
Your post reminded me of a passage in a book I read once that was all about food as love, as a symbol or mechanism of expressing caring for the people around you. I’m going to have to go find it now.
I like to have guests over, but I don’t really like to cook, mostly because I hate the cleaning up part that comes after. There are a few things that I am excellent at making, but I usually only make them to take to parties/meals at other people’s homes. I cook a full meal for guests on occasion, but probably no more than 5 or 6 times a year, plus Thanksgiving, birthdays, etc. When I have people over, I’m more likely to do munchies: cheese, crackers, roasted red pepper salad, fruit, membrillo, guava paste, spinach and crab dip, etc., with everyone either in the back yard or in the living room playing games or watching a movie or something.
Well, that certainly touched a nerve! Thanks, everyone. Everyone here is invited — if you ever make it out to my neck of the woods (California-Oregon border, on the coast), let me know in advance, and I’ll cook up a feast.
Sheila, it is an interesting phenomenon: I know for a fact that some of these rude folks have no problem being taken out and treated to an expensive restaurant dinner. They say thank you and everything. Somehow, the dynamic changes when I’m the one cooking.
Leslie, I’m glad you like the bread pudding! Hmm. Maybe I need to make some tonight.
Darla, I’m all about appliances. How do you think I was able to do two different types of raviolis with only 2 hours prep time? The food processor helped, too 😉
jmc, now I need to look up ‘membrillo’. That’s a new one on me. As for clean up, there’s always alcohol at my dinner parties (usually wine), and I’ve found that cleaning the kitchen goes much quicker if I’m a bit drunk. I haven’t shed too much blood that way.
It’s too bad that those people dissed you like that. I love when someone else cooks because I get to see how other people eat. I get so bored with what I cook that sometimes I wonder how other people do things. I’m so concerned about my cooking that I refuse to do it for other people, except for Thanksgiving. That one’s hard to mess up. It is really nice that you do that for your guests, but I can understand their feelings of intimidation. After getting fed at your place, their food looks like prison mush. Still, I think you’re awesome.
We’ll be there with our appetites and appreciation. Neither David nor I cook for as a hobby, but interestingly enough his ex-wife does so beautifully so we go to her house for Easter, Christmas, etc. That’s the kind of kind person I am. We’re friends. And I DO appreciate her talent, tremendously.
If we wind up dining at Chez Hoffman, let us bring the wine. I’d love to know your favorite vintages (Oregon, Washington, and otherwise), if you haven’t posted that already…
Found it! In A Place to Call Home the narrator uses food to describe how her family cares for each other and the isolation of someone they have recently taken into their circle. Posted the passage here.
Okay, the link didn’t work. It’s posted here: http://jmcarr2001.livejournal.com/45817.html
Anduin, I cooked for my wife on our first date, and I cooked the rehearsal dinner for our wedding. I know some of this probably comes off as boastful, but this is me 😉 Anyway, I long ago decided I wouldn’t “dumb down” my dinners just to make people feel better about it.
Blue Gal, have you emailed me the dates? I still have hopes that Karen will be well enough to travel by then. Not that I don’t want to cook for you guys — I do — but doing Ashland together would be a hoot, too. And it would be far easier for you & your family.
Thanks, jmc . . . I’ll check that out.
I like to cook. And I’m a pretty good cook, too.
But cooking for guests stresses the hell out of me.