It's Easier to Just Go Out

You know, almost every night of the week—out of habit on weekdays and principle on weekends—I consider dining out.  I wasn't raised on take-out or at a series of chain restaurants, so what makes me such a sucker for them now?  A good, three-dish meal of a main and two sides or a salad is what I think of as a normal dinner.  Yet I'm constantly yearning for an appetizer, entree and dessert.  What is wrong with me!?

In Sydney for work, I've got a list of restaurants a mile long, recommended by coworkers, ex-pats, clients and even the hotel concierge.  And I wouldn't really be comfortable not knowing where to go for pizza or sushi for two weeks.  But what's surprising is that I have the same approach at home in SF.

7x7 Magazine arrives monthly.  Since that's not nearly often enough, I receive daily emails about restaurant openings, celebrity chef gossip or recipes (depending), and the hottest menu items across the city.  7x7 isn't the only daily food newsletter I read.  I also get Tasting Table, Daily Candy, FoodBuzz, Fresh Guide, SF Magazine and Bloomspot.  Between these emails, "water cooler" talk, impressing visiting friends and a desire to conquer great-tasting food in general, my brain could explode with dinner options.  Is this why I want to go out every night?  To stay in the game?

Then again, it's really easy to go out.  Once seated in a sushi restaurant, edamame is nearly instant and sashimi is about 10 minutes out of the gate.  If I'm hungry now, sushi gets it done.  Mexican restaurants get salsa in my belly in even less time.  If the name of the game is quantity, I can get more burrito for my buck than a lot of supermarket proteins.  Is that why I want to go out?  Because it's quick and satisfying?

I don't know when food culture turned from sustenance to obsession.  For me, dining is so many things: comforting; catching up with the person dining with me; a link to a past mood/experience/flavor; even an adventure with a sense of accomplishment at its culmination.  What other action on earth provides so many opportunities?

But I'm rationalizing the appeal of restaurants on a daily basis—why am I not creating these experiences at home night after night?  The truth is, I would if I could.  I love to wake up on a weekend morning with nothing on my mind except how complicated of a meal I can create all day.  I love buying the ingredients and imagining their transformation, sometimes giddy about how sneaky I'll be: "when I'm done with you, you won't even know what you started as!"  Great ingredients are exciting.  I love imagining, then literally selecting which pans I'll use; like a painter choosing brushes.  I love the choreography of the kitchen, from fine calculations that will keep everything moving forward, hot, and on the same schedule, to the cleverness in reusing tools at just the right moment.  I love the smells and the textures and the taste, but you already knew all that!  All of these things just feel impossible during the work week.  Long days at work, regardless of the number of hours, and I'm ready for all those wonderful reasons I cook to be overpowered by two thoughts: someone else doing the heavy lifting and being able to taste something delicious almost immediately.

So what have I learned, putting this down in writing?  Apparently, the biggest driver for me to dine out is ease.  I always thought it was an insatiable desire to taste new things in new environments with great company.  In reality, I would enjoy cooking my own tasting menu for a group of friends much more than in a restaurant.  But I still want a burrito on a Thursday night because it's been a rough week, I'm tired, I don't want to stand up for 2 hours peeling vegetables and dangit, I want it right now!

All said, I still want to eat at all the best restaurants.  That doesn't go away.  Yet I realize that's a desire which more closely resembles wanderlust or dress envy.  What drives me to frivolously dine out year round is blatant laziness.  Whew, glad I figured that out.