The joy of not cooking
Outside of work, my biggest hobby is social dancing. I pretty much focus on blues dancing, a dance that has an underground, but strong, subculture. In the Pacific NW, that subculture shows up in the form of house parties, so last night after work I drove three hours to go to a blues party in Portland, OR. A blues party is like, well, a giant house party with better music and much better dancing (imagine a house full of 100 people all doing some amazing partner dancing at 4 in the morning). I had a great time spinning a set for this appreciative crowd, dancing when I could, and, like any good cook, getting thoroughly plastered.I passed out on my airbed from a combination of alcohol and exhaustion while the party was still going strong. When I woke up in the early afternoon, I went downstairs to see one of the most beautiful things any professional cook can ever see: someone else cooking. That's right. Someone else was cooking for everyone in the house.
One of my friends saw that I was up and asked, "Why aren't you cooking?" To which I replied with a sarcastic smile, "It's my day off. Let someone else fucking cook."
Even though I was tired and slightly hung over, I still could have cooked breakfast. And I know I could have done a better job, but that's not the point. The fact is that on a cook's day off, the last thing that I wanted to do was to make breakfast for a dozen covers. Breakfast was being cooked with love and care by someone that wasn't me, and that's all that really mattered.
2 Comments:
I have noticed that you appreciate food more and cook less now that you're out of school and working in the trenches.
Do people bug you at social events seeking free cooking advice? ;-)
I thought I already had that going on here.
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