Fine Dining - Getting the Seasoning Right 12-12-9

My Kitchen Counter, South Carolina

Not long ago I had an astounding dialogue with a professor in my church. Somehow we got onto a conversational thread about fine dining. In the course of an hour an amazing world was revealed to me, one previously unknown to me that requires an astonishing amount of wherewithal to participate in. The substance of our exchange was inspired on the part of my conversant by my quip that I could not conceive of spending a hundred dollars to eat a meal; there just is not a meal on earth worth this kind of money to me.

Recent economic reverses in America have taken a huge toll on the retail restaurant trade. Adam Smith’s invisible hand of the market has choked the life out of many fine restaurants, including the best ones in our town. People simply cannot afford to drop $30-50 for a plate of food that is going to last about thirty minutes. While lamenting the economic realities of recession and what makes it real at the local level, I mentioned the simultaneous closure of three of our nicest dining venues. My discussant immediate chimed in with a declaration that these places served ‘pig slop’ and deserved their fiscal fate. I was astounded. These destinations have for some years been fundamental anchors in the nascent renewal of our long-neglected downtown and well regarded for their culinary and communitarian offerings. My many experiences in all three of them were uniformly delightful. I have heard consistently positive reviews from countless other diners over the years.

Wondering what could possibly be out there that was so much better, I begged for an education. I got one. My new acquaintance proceeded to wax expansive about $600 lunches he had purchased for his girlfriend in London, the $2,400 dropped on dinner at Monaco for his wife. What could possibly make a tiny plate of fish eggs worth $825? Obviously, I am rather plebian in my culinary acumen. Having always thought myself fairly astute at figuring out if something was pig slop or gourmet nirvana, I was suddenly feeling more than a bit tentative in the presence of my teacher. I had no urge to invite him to my house to eat leftovers from the church social last week. For sure, I don’t want to fetch up with a girl friend or wife that needs daily supplements of $825 fish eggs. $12 bottles of omega 3 from Walgreens suit me fine.

In our broadband cyber age it was easy to launch into some proactive research when I got back to my house filled with its Tupperware containers. What had been described to me as the finest restaurant in the world maintains a web site. I explored this site and the rather small menu. Incredulous, I discerned that a meal for two, not including a jug of wine, would set me back $3200. This is more than I spend to keep thirty five children on the sub continent of India in eats all year.

A small lettuce salad with oil and vinegar and a bit of salt to give it some taste, with a dollop of black truffle is $120 as of this writing. A small bowl of what is essentially chicken noodle soup is $105. Two ounces of caviar with blini is $825, not including service or tax. The fish eggs net out at $1000 per person. What is described on the menu as a ‘piece of beef on the wood fire’ is a mere $132. If one is not into dead cow, the tails of non-swimming Canadian crustaceans can be had for $165, including the dipping sauce. A small platter of cheese blocks as a chaser is a more modest $33. The $36 ice cream is not on this week’s menu but one can ask for it. If one opts for the heart healthy crustacean, the tab for one comes to $1,284. Service and tax brings the total for one up to $1,605. For two diners, without wine, plan on tapping the line of equity on your house for $3210. Recent reviewers mention a paucity of bargains on the wine list. I recommend adding $500 for a jug if you need to pre-medicate before getting your tab after dessert. And I don’t believe doggie bags would be considered de rigueur.

Yes the place is elegant, over the top elaboration inspired by Versailles. The tools are sterling. The glasses 24% lead crystal with the correct pedigree. The table cloth is high count Egyptian linen, ad infinitum. The cut flowers are real. The ceiling has a nicely done fresco by Felix Lucas. Tiny silver birds are on each table, collecting imaginary crumbs.

One of my great joys over the years has been preparing multi-course meals. A very long time ago I figured out that if one provides a very leisurely unhurried dining experience for friends and is totally mindful and present to their pleasure, it almost does not matter what is put on the plates. I can be absolutely certain that I am able to invoke every bit as much pleasure from my guests with my split pea soup as culinary entrepreneurs ever get with their $105 chicken noodle soup. Mine is seasoned with ham bones from the Meals on Wheels kitchen. When serving a multi-course experience, I am always certain to not allow anyone to help. I want them to feel waited upon.

It has been great fun over the years to simply focus on creating a context in which people can have easy comfortable conversation with each other. The magic ingredients for a fine dining experience really are the seasonings of mindfulness, attentiveness, and good conversation. If I get the seasonings right, I can generally figure on people staying at my table for about four hours. A high end restaurant is going to turn tables every two hours.

No one has ever asked me if I am using sterling or silver plate cutlery. Most people actually like my plated stuff better. I skip the linen because it is pain to iron and expensive to clean. Colored top sheets are cheap, easily ironed, and can be tossed in the washer after someone daftly spills salad dressing on them.

In the distant past I used to babysit the four children of two good friends. I was often compensated for by an invite to pull up to their beat up kitchen table to eat with them. The dining room long before was converted to a music room for the kids. At that kitchen table I was always served on a large red plate that was inscribed with “You are special today”. I can see that plate in my mind’s eye twenty years later. I can’t remember any of the plates I ate on in Paris. The magic ingredients do not come from the kitchen. They come from the heart of the host.

Because I live really right and have the pantheon of gods smiling on me continually, it happens that a couple of times a month my cell phone rings with a special message. The caller ID tells me that I am about to come into good fortune. A disabled daughter and her mother live together in a tiny rented place and both have made it a mission to see that I do not starve. Dropping what I am up to, I get in my car and drive over and harvest onto a plastic plate some of the grandest examples of southern cooking in the world, made with extra portions of love. These treasure troves sustain me for days. No lead crystal, no sterling, no linen, no frescoes on the ceiling, but the dining is truly sumptuous. These cooks know how to season their fare. These two women have become genuinely dear to me. If anything ever happens to these women, they will have a place to live and a table to eat on.

I am a participant in a monthly circle dinner group in my church. These dinners are served in fine houses with grand tables, sterling, 24% lead crystal, ad infinitum. The groceries are splendid, yet I leave feeling anything but special. A month ago I was in attendance at one of these when one of the guests launched into a tirade about ‘damn’ Yankees who are ruining Southern culture. She declared if it was in her power she would pack them all up and ship them back. As a Yankee, I simply asked her if she was willing to help me pack up. Silence. Two months ago at table, a fellow new to me, inquired if I was a regular attendee at these culinary enclaves. He made it clear, despite the protestations of his wife, that if I was going to attend, then he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It simply didn’t matter any more what was on those fine dishes or whether I was using sterling or cheap plate. In neither case did the host attempt to referee their ill-mannered guests. I felt a bit like a participant in group therapy in which the moderator had let the group run amok. It might be time for me to find other places to dine.

What could make an underpaid professor in a micro-college in rural South Carolina willing to drop a veritable fortune on lettuce and fish eggs? Perhaps when giving a king’s ransom to eat, one can have an expectation that everything will be done right, really right. Certainly the giving of offense will not encourage repeated taps to one’s equity line. One will not be offered assistance moving out of state or the option of dropping out of the group. Yet, paying princely sums for a dining experience reduces it to a transaction; it is not a gift of hospitality.

One of the most endearing images in Christendom is that of the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. The Revelation of John is interpreted by many to include a promise that those who are in Christ will be admitted to an epic dining experience of immense grandeur and duration. The imagery is seasoned with the flavors of loving community and fellowship with one another and the King of Kings as host. Perhaps the tableware will be upscale, it might be plastic plates, but we won’t care. The seasonings will be exactly right. Even the largest line of credit will not get one into this venue.

When the 17th century Dutch tulip mania nearly ruined the economies of the western world, someone finally said, “It’s just a tulip bulb, Stupid.” The euphoric bidders, reality check in place, all stayed home. The markets collapsed. Tulip bulbs fetching the equivalent of a million dollars at auction sold for pennies within weeks. We need to remember, it’s just lettuce and fish eggs. Make sure they are served with love instead of hostility. Without the right seasoning they are inedible, at any price. We might have nothing but pig slop to offer, but with the right seasoning it can be Heavenly.