It’s a new question I ask the host now when planning the menu for their unique Portico Experience. It’s important for me to curate an evening that my guests will thoroughly enjoy. The last thing I want to do is serve someone something they don’t like.
It was an adjustment to me when I became a professional chef and I found out how picky some people can be. I was raised by a strict mother that did not allow me to dictate what was placed in front of me during dinner. If I didn’t like it, too bad. If I didn’t eat it, then it would be waiting for me the next morning. She was not about to raise a fastidious kid that had to be coddled at meal time.
While I think this was a bit strict and maybe at times, unreasonable, it served me well when I traveled internationally and went into homes of hosts that were generous with their hospitality and served me an extra helping of matoke or beef tendon or coagulated pork blood with rice. I wasn’t raised to have an opinion of what was on my plate and would eventually go in my stomach. I had my own little episodes of Bizarre Foods that never made it to The Travel Channel.
Now that I make a living from setting food in front of people, I don’t want to be like my mother and say “it’s my way or the highway.” But I do want to expand a person’s horizons to move them past any phobias into a richer dining experience.
Night after night, my favorite compliment that I receive from a guest is, “Chef, I hate ______, but what you served me was amazing. Fill in the blank with blue cheese, asparagus, sweet potatoes, coconut and so on. It never gets old when someone says they have never liked something and I changed their mind about it.
I don’t think I change anyone’s mind about food (or anything else for that matter), but I do like to think I can open a mind for consideration. This is why I now ask, “Is this an adventurous group?” If you are open to trying something new, that’s all I can ask. I would never expect a guest to like something, but I would like them to try it, if they are willing.
The problem with my mother’s food is it was knowingly awful. Boiling squash has no positive outcome. It wasn’t until I was 18 til I realized I could have a steak other than well done.
It’s my belief that our food aversions come from a bad experience that we never want to relive. That tequila from spring break in college. The brussels sprouts in grade school that were slimy. Spinach out of a can. Frozen green beans that made you puke. All these are reasonably avoided.
But may I have an opportunity to open your mind? Would you be open to trying it again with a different outcome?
I print it on the menu as Langue de bœuf, but in the King’s English, it’s beef tongue. Tongue is edible like any other muscle on the animal, but it has distinct preparation needs. It’s tough, stringy but still tastes like beef. We cure it in the same way as corned beef. The outcome is the best little corned beef slider you’ve ever had, except made with beef tongue instead of brisket. Everyone who has tried it admits they would have thought it was anything other than.
It’s my goal to expand your horizons. Someone pushed back and said, “Why should I learn to like something I don’t?” To which I reply, “You had to learn to walk and talk, didn’t you? Did they both come easy? You obviously benefited from learning both skills.”
When we dismiss something, what do we miss in the process?
My most common aversion is this: “Chef, NO SEAFOOD!” This is a broad category. If by No Seafood, you mean no canned salmon made into those smelly Salmon Croquettes that my mom made, I am in full agreement. But if you mean the light, delicate, citrusy ceviche we serve in a dish called Oyster, No Oyster, you’ll be missing out on our most celebrated course. Last week, my guests literally applauded when they took a bite. I would hate for someone to miss out because they relied on a past experience to dictate their future pleasures
The willingness to be open to understand, to learn, and to grow, may I call it curiosity?
And curiosity is a central element of The Portico Experience.
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