I had my best gig when I moved to New York straight out of college. I knew a guy who knew a guy who ran a restaurant consulting business. Every Friday night, I put on my Steve Madden slides, grabbed my date (my then-boyfriend, now husband Andy), headed to the designated eatery, and stopped in between courses. I was able to run to the stall and take notes on things, like the exact minutes it took for the server to greet me.
the only problem? I knew nothing about food. Or rather, I understood a little. But I’m only 22 or he was 23, so it makes me cringe to think that a sensible veteran restaurant owner made those reports. There were times when I expressed shock and dismay at how bitter the broccoli was (it was broccoli rabe), and times when I was confused by the strange chewy shell of the sugar cane starter (it was shellless edamame). Thinking I was the epitome of sophistication, I once asked a server for a glass of Rioja, pronouncing it with a “j” (like Jenny). But it was so much better than when I almost ordered sweetbreads at an old fashioned French restaurant thinking they were glazed pastries. Are you ready?” Andy tried to act cool, whispering about his menu. I ordered the crab bisque and we laughed our butts off.
The learning curve was steep, just like when I was cooking in my own kitchen. I was perusing cookbook recipes that seemed to embody not just the cook I wanted to be, but the life I wanted to live. But what exactly was chicken stock? Something to do with chicken soup? (Spoiler: they are the same thing.) And these silver palate Women are geniuses, why would you tell me that? reduce source right after me addition And wine? how is that logical? I’m not the only one who thought one 16 oz bag of spinach would feed him enough spinach for 4 people. tablespoon of spinach cooked to each dinner guest. Why is no one telling you these things? I thought about those days many times.
But when we’re learning how to cook—learning how to do something—failure is inevitable and instead of sounding like your mom here, we get better. It’s also the only way. Plus, it’s very boring without these stories. (I’ve been dining out for years!) Of course, I’d love to hear about you.
PS 12 essential kitchen tools and 15 things someone should tell you when you first started cooking.
(Pictured: Me in Brooklyn, December 2001, pregnant with my first daughter, trying not to spoil my hummus and pita.)
