Dinner Party
Doggy bags are a big deal for me. I don’t remember restaurant portions being quite this large in Australia (or maybe I’m just eating less) but these days, restaurants seem to be serving me a dinner that is about 1.5 times the optimal size. I have a hard time stopping in the middle of a meal and asking for a box. I tend to stop when there is no more food on the plate, not when my stomach is full.
So it was this Saturday that I did something unprecedented. We visited a grill place, it was my second visit. Having ordered one of the most expensive things on the menu last time (the filet mignon), I decided to pick one of the cheaper items for a comparison. I asked for the short ribs and I was thoroughly disappointed. The ribs arrived on a little grill thingy with an absence of seasoning and no sauce. I’m all for a celebration of the taste of meat but I need some real flavor here. So I decided to stop after only eating one of the three strips of meat and take it home in a box. At home, I would make them better!
I’ve cooked short ribs before but I’ve always braised them, never grilled them and left them rare. I’m not afraid of rare meat but I’ve always preferred to break down the tougher cuts. So, I cut them into manageable chunks, seasoned them the way I like it and it was a success! I was in a meat-induced bliss rather than meat-induced boredom.
It makes me think: What if I took the money spent eating out and spend it on my own cooking. I’m not talking about saving money, but trading what you would have spent on restaurant overheads and apply it directly to improving my cooking skills and my taste buds.
On Sunday, we were invited to a dinner party of sorts and my girlfriend talked about hosting a dinner party of our own. This excites and scares me. My creative pursuits are mostly done in private. Cooking alone, singing in the shower and posting to a blog that gets an average of five comments a month. I am shy about my mistakes - a character trait I attribute to my parent’s strong desire for children with perfect grades. It was not until I started to disappoint them in all areas outside of my specialty and exhibit forms of social retardation did they acknowledge that perhaps it was ok to have some slack in the leash.
So I approach this idea of a dinner party with many “what if it’s not perfect” concerns and a vague scoff at how tragically cliché it is for a couple to host a dinner party. But I’m excited to cook for others too.
