Better to cook at home than go out to eat

Last night I went on a date. Dinner and a movie was on the cards - didn't quite turn out that way. First, there was a line (queue, I'm trying to be bilingual) about 20 people deep for the movies, so I vetoed. After wandering around a bit, we found salvation in Enron. Last minute tix at £25.00 - a bargain. Incredible show. Some uneven parts, an exploitation of 9/11 toward the end, but generally brilliant, particularly in the writing and Sam West's performance.

Going to the theatre, however, made us push back the dinner reservation at Oxo Brasserie until 10:30pm, which the hosts there assured us wouldn't be a problem. Oh, but it was. When seated, we were 2 of 6 people there, with everyone else finishing their meal as we started. Before we even ordered, exhausted and impatient waiters cleared the settings from the tables next to us. After a decent, but unspectacular course of Jerusalem Artichoke and Wild Garlic soup and Veal Ragout with Polenta, waiters outside placed the chairs on tables. Our main course - which actually featured a nearly perfectly cooked pork loin - was eaten to the tune of the musicians packing up, as the last of the other guests stumbled out. And during dessert, one of many waiters we had throughout the evening (as we were outnumbered about 30 to 2) hollowly reassured us that there was no rush.

It was glorified wedding food. Nothing definitively bad, but no standouts either, and probably the most uncomfortable restaurant situation I've ever been in - and that includes being followed to the bathroom by an attentive waiter at Charlie Trotter's. Who knew that an overindulgent September 11th scene wouldn't be the most awkward part of the evening?

Now, contrast that with tonight. It was an exhausting day, filled with busy work and petty questions. The sun shone brilliantly through the windows, yet was unattainable - even in lunch, while I diligently searched for training contracts. A lovely walk home, accompanied by the brilliant guys from RadioLab, followed by a quick kitchen clean, and I'm ready to go. Chicken thighs marinating in garlic mashed with salt, stirred in with olive oil, lemon and honey and sprinkled with crushed red pepper. Fresh carrots delivered from Abel & Cole, peeled and chopped - ready to blanch. Cabbage sliced, eagerly awaiting braising in chicken stock and butter. Chinese black rice, seasoned with just a bit of the chicken juices towards the end.

All this, and I even read 40 pages of a case. Ahh, the difference cooking at home makes. I'll take it nearly every time.

Drawn into thew world of food photography

Woke up early this morning, and decided to peruse the NYT (before it throws up the pay wall!). In it was a hilarious little piece about the growing practice of photographing your food. For some, this has become an intricate ritual in their weight loss pursuit. For others, it's an attempt to document an increasingly fast-paced life, as French philosopher Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin wrote, “Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are.” Intrigued by this latter category, I think I'll give it a go. Who knows? It may encourage me to stop procrastinating and actually write in this blog o' mine. No worries, I won't be posting a glossy, staged pic of every biscuit, but for a start - here's my morning ritual: Coffee.



P.S. For those who are interested in the article - here's the link: People Who Photograph Food and Display the Pictures Online