The Porch

I'm facing a dilemma, and it has nothing to do with dinner. It's more of an internal battle in my head. I'm not doing a lot of cooking these days, and haven't been on a line in ten months. Sure, I'm feeding myself, but it's not the same as coming up with innovative dishes and stunning plates that will appeal to people other than myself (because let's face it, I sometimes eat weird food). For the first time in a long time, I'm doubting my own abilities.

I don't remember the first time I was overwhelmed with the sheer calm of confidence, but I do remember how it felt. I realized one day that I wasn't constantly on edge in the kitchen. I didn't have this gnawing ache in my stomach like I was on stage and hadn't completely prepared my lines. Instead, there was a serenity to knowing that I had this in the bag. I've carried that with me from kitchen to kitchen, even to my own kitchen, and it's allowed me to pull off beautiful sit-down dinners for dozens of people. It's allowed me to jump onto foreign lines and execute menus with which I'm unfamiliar. It's given me an edge that makes me an valuable employee.

Well, I had my boat rocked a couple weeks ago when I was confronted by a better cook than I. Now, there are lots of better cooks out there, but this one had no problem telling me so. Preempting a pissing contest, he staked out his territory and put me in my place. He knocked me down a peg. This was not an unkind exchange, but he'd drawn a line in the sand, and I now had a choice of whether to cross it. I initially felt like he'd kicked dirt in my face. But because he's someone I like and admire, I conceded and let him have this one. I put forth a half-assed defense, but ultimately decided if I puffed up my chest the way I wanted to, the subject of who is the better line cook would be something we'd fight about until the end of time. And I'm not willing to put myself in a position to be constantly defending my skills.

So now this individual thinks it would be fun for the two of us to do a night guest-cooking with his mentor. I think I'd rather stick a fork in my eye. This is not because I don't want to learn something new. It's not because I don't want to cook with these two brilliant guys. It's because I'm out of practice, and I'm petrified of embarrassing myself in front of someone I admire and someone he admires. I'm not a know-it-all. I'm the first person to admit I don't know everything. In fact, there are enormous gaps in my knowledge of which I'm well-aware, and for which I am forever compensating. But God forbid I'm asked to do something and don't recognize the terminology. What would be worse, admitting I don't know what the hell I've been asked, or keeping my mouth shut and fucking it up? Which I would never do, because I'm a Goddamned professional. Meaning I'd embarrass myself just by opening my mouth. Ah, a vicious cycle. Thus the dilemma.

What to do, what to do...the doubtful (and childish) part of me wants to decline this offer. Forever. And maybe give up cooking altogether in order to avoid it. However, the competitive challenge-seeking hot head will no doubt take over. I'll spend the next month brushing up on my culinary basics, and I'll prove to the guys, and to myself, that I can indeed hang with the big dogs.