Stage Fright

I've just come from a screening of Richard Linklater's latest film, "Me and Orson Welles". The acting bug is an ailment that has thankfully never bitten me despite numerous amateur performances during my school years. So I couldn't fully relate to the film's notion that actors would put up with Welles' ego and abuse strictly for the love of the craft. I would lose the will to take the stage if a man of his greatness was calling me a "talentless sh*t".

However, after leaving the theatre, it occurred to me that my love of cooking puts me in the same predicament as that of an actor: the perpetual fear that your audience may not like your performance. You see, for all my ambition go get my cookbook published, I don't actually know if my food is any good.

I know what I like. But that's all I know. For example, I am extremely fond of my creation (yet to be named) which involves Jasmine rice steamed in a mixture of coconut milk, green curry paste, lemongrass, lime juice, lime zest, and fish sauce. Sometimes I add greens like baby spinach or rapini to exaggerate the almost all-green list of ingredients. (I could probably call it Emerald Rice but that sounds like the name of Chinese dive that might serve predictable fare like General Tao Chicken.) I find the flavor deeply satisfying and I never tire of making it.

Would I ever serve it to another person? The thought petrifies me. I have absolutely no idea if someone else would like it. Taste and food preferences are so intrinsically subjective. Even Heston Blumenthal (yes, I'm quoting him again) readily admits that his idea of culinary perfection will not necessarily match with anybody else's. How can I predict if someone else would share my enthusiasm for the blend of sweet, salty, sour, spicy and umami in this dish?

You're probably thinking that I should rely on the feedback of my dinner guests. Yet haven't you ever pretended to enjoy a dish that was truly horrible for the sake of the person who cooked it for you? I always ate my plate clean at my parents' house but if you thought that meant I liked boiled brussel sprouts as much as roast chicken, you are sorely mistaken. I just couldn't stomach the guilt of knowing that there were starving children elsewhere, so who was I to refuse food?

I once had a boyfriend who wouldn't hide his distaste for something I made. He made the most contorted grimace when he dunked a pita wedge into a bowl of my home-made hummus. In my defense, I should point out that he had never had hummus before and didn't know what to expect. He later claimed to like hummus which did nothing to mend my self-doubt.

Gordon Ramsay says that you will never be a great chef if you don't care about the person eating your food above all else. Actors and cooks alike are in pursuit of an appreciative audience. They want validation as much as they want to perform. Yet that validation is abstract and ephemeral. Maybe that's why actors have so many awards shows for themselves. I can't fault Sally Field for exclaiming at her Oscar acceptance speech, "you like me right now, you like me!" It's nice to know for sure, at least for a moment, that somebody out there enjoyed your performance.

Still, I cook... in spite of my insecurities. For me, it's an expression of affection. I wouldn't be cooking for you if I didn't like you. Hopefully that's good enough reason for you to come to the table.