An Introduction

I got started late. While most people who fancy themselves “into” food were experiencing and experimenting at a young age under the tutelage of their parents, I was twenty before noticed art in the interaction of subtle flavors and textures. Cooking in my parents’ house was generally viewed as a chore. My parents made good, solid, healthy food, and they served it hot on the table every single night. But meal planning, preparation and presentation were tasks rarely enjoyed. The restaurants we frequented, albeit not very frequently, were almost always Chinese, and they were judged primarily on how quickly we were seated and whether the bill was correct.

So I remember vividly the moment in November, 2000 when a dish revealed a glimpse into the vast world of culinary exploration. At the Bound'ry in Nashville, Chef Michael Cribb was sharing his uniquely contemporary take on Southern classics. The restaurant was built around old-growth trees which, together with sharp lighting and vibrant art adorning the walls, created a tangible energy. When my “chicken n’ dumplings” arrived at the table, the smell was overwhelming – sweet and earthy with distinct overtones of fresh herbs. I can’t still smell it, but I remember what it felt like as the aromas wrapped around my head. I remember the creaminess of the sauce and dumplings that were at the same time crispy and tender. There were diced peppers and, my God, bacon. It’s hard to remember all of the details the way that I would like because, at the time, I did not really know what I was tasting. But I sat their with a spoon and a folk, alternating between the chicken and the sauce while letting the flavors wash over my tongue one molecule at a time. “What. Is. This?!”

It would be a few more years before my enthusiasm for cooking and tasting really took off. Life as a poor delivery guy in Nashville lent itself more to canned soup than prix fixe menus. But when I arrived back in DC to attend law school, I quickly became friends with a number of people who both really enjoyed food and knew a lot about it. My roommate Andrew was passionate about his homemade guacamole, handling it with the care that one would exhibit in transporting radioactive material. Lauren came from a Lebanese household and used the free time given to her by insomnia to make dolmas and lebneh. Danica would stop by with little cheeses and candies she had picked up while exploring the less-trodden parts of the city – little treasures that she had kept wrapped in newspaper or slightly-used paper towels. And then there was Budda. He baked hundreds of cookies. He smoked pounds of meat. He knew how to handle a knife and operate a Kitchenaide. He knew all the restaurants in town and had very definite opinions about which chefs were deserving of his money. Along with his roommate, Dave, Budda was a perfect teacher who never got tired of my questions and was always up for trying something new. While my social life up until this point had been filled with house parties and bar crawls, suddenly a Saturday night was best spent eating blood sausage and sweetbreads at Jose Andres’ Jaleo.

And so, for the past six years, I’ve been making up for lost time, opening my eyes to the culture of food that has gripped this country for the last decade. This “serious hobby,” as I like to think of it, has drawn on a noticeable portion of my disposable income – vacations built around interesting restaurants, the preparation of high-end dinner parties for scores of friends and a mild infatuation with kitchen gadgets of all varieties.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not one for excess. I do not wish to ever feel habitually gluttonous or lose sight of the fact that a hobby in fine dining is, in the end, a luxury. But I also know that there are few things I enjoy more than waking up at 7:00am, heading immediately to the kitchen, and spending the entire day with my girlfriend J preparing a gourmet, 5-course meal from scratch for twelve friends. There are few things more exciting than looking over a tasting menu and seeing combinations I’ve never seen. And there are few things more rewarding than finding a really great dish at a really great price. Food brings together family and friends. It defines cultures and bridges divides. Preparing and eating food is the world’s oldest social activity.

And so I’ve started this blog. I intend it to be a forum in which people can express thoughts on restaurants, recipes, kitchen tools and techniques. I want to learn more, and I want you to teach me. So please, if you disagree with a review, tell me why. If you know a better way to approach a recipe, enlighten me. And if there is something new that you think I should try, tell me immediately. Because I could eat.