Just Cured - Experience Fine Foods

A few weeks ago, I wrote that I enjoy the writing of Alex Witchel. The opening of her article (link may expire) in the Dining In/Dining Out section of this past Wednesday’s New York Times struck a particular note with me. The article begins:

It is hard for me to cook for people I donít like. I donít have to do it often, but when I do, I find it a torment because cooking is so personal, so revealing. Even more than sex, I think.

You can have a perfectly good one-night stand, be greatly entertained, and still not know the other person when itís done. But once someone cooks for you, itís almost impossible not to discover who that person is.

I have always understood Ms. Witchel’s words even if I was never able to express the thought so graphically. Her article veered off to a description of a dinner party. My thoughts took another direction.

Like her, I have only rarely cooked for people I do not like. In fact, I can think of only one or two occasions and those were when I did not have complete control of the guest list. I realized, however, that my aversion extends to people that I do not know well — people with whom I am not comfortable sharing a large glimpse into who I am.

Years ago, a colleague was insistent that I host a series of dinner parties for his important business connections. He was incredulous when I refused. He explained to me that I love to cook and entertain, that the company would reimburse for all the out-of-pocket costs and that it would be “good for business.” I used the excuse that there was no adequate compensation for the efforts my wife would be required to make for these dinner parties. What I could not express at the time was that I felt violated by the request. I simply would not expose myself to virtual strangers for some potential financial benefit.

Likewise, I have carefully avoided the many charitable requests to contribute a dinner party cooked in the home of the winning auction bidder. I always thought it was just not the right charity or the right time. I succumbed once to a close friend to whom I have a great difficulty saying no. The request was to co-host and cook for a brunch in her home. The charity was one very close to my heart. On the evening of the silent auction, I had my wife make a preemptive bid for the lot. I think I could have endured cooking for strangers in the home of those friends with their support as co-hosts. In the end, I wasn’t willing to risk cooking for a winning bidder I didn’t like. It all worked out for the best — the charity got a high price for the lot and neither the hostess nor I expended the cost of having a party.

Ms. Witchel’s comment doesn’t touch on the flip side of either her or my emotions. It is for another of her articles to expound upon the joy of preparing a meal for someone for the first time. I get to talk about it here.

Any meal I cook is a supplement to, or substitute for, a myriad of conversations and revelations. The menu is an accumulation of my experiences, distilled for these guests on this occasion. I understand that the foods I choose will reflect not only my personality but also my opinion of my guests, my relationship to them and the occasion of our dining together.

Most often, I appear to make the decisions about a meal without a great deal of thought. In fact, the meal planning is effortless — it is my relationship with my dining companions that requires time, energy, care and nurturing. If I have done those things well, I will know what to serve on a given occasion.

And so comes the joy associated with that first meal. It is a celebration of a relationship that may be either new or long standing. In either case, I have chosen to share a large part of me that is yet unrevealed. That step is scary, yet exhilarating; it is a step from which there is no return — I cannot take back what I have exposed to that dining companion.

I have a friend who claims that I remember ever bite of every meal I have ever eaten. It isn’t true. Most often, I cannot remember what I cooked for someone, even the menu from the first time I cooked for that person. What I will never forget, however, is what I felt when I cooked for him or her — particularly what I was feeling that first time.