I responded to an ad recently calling for contributors to an online asian mag, no pay involved. Why a person would get involved in a field that requires so much unpaid grunt work to begin with is beyond me. Yes, I know, I'm one of those idiots. But a girl's gotta start somewhere, and being a slave-freelancer goes right in line with all of the other masochistic life choices I've made so far. There's an ancient Buddhist/Confucian/Karate Kid saying -- if it doesn't hurt, you're not doing it right.
Anyway, as it turns out, the webmag is a Maxim-type men's mag with fluffy articles arranged in a halo around a large ever-changing jpeg of some Suzie Wong in ecstasy. I don't really have a problem with that stuff, which the me of ten years ago who attended UC Berkeley and wrote papers on bell hooks and Eve Ensler would be horrified to know. So I started brainstorming ideas I could pitch to the editor for stories that would appeal to the dolts who mistakenly run their mouse over the text in search of more pics. What are the pressing food issues for the pizza and PBR set? What kind of advice could a very un-Maxim type girl give to guys who are interested in articles like "What to do if your tongue gets frozen on a lamppost" or "Zhang Ziyi, House my Flying Dagger"? And then I thought, fuck that, if I'm not getting paid to say it, I'll publish it online on my own website, goddamnit! Besides, my articles can't compete with hot girls in bitty bikinis.
So in the interest of experimenting with genre exercises I came up with this question -- you're the Maxim guy, the consummate lad, the balls-scratching, baseball cap wearing dude who's been following the careers of Alyssa Milano and Jeri Ryan very closely over the years. You want to get laid. To get laid, you gotta get a girl over to your house. What better way to lure the fuck of your sad wet dreams than the promise of a home-cooked dinner? But calling the local Indian delivery and digging sporks into plastic containers of vindaloo just ain't gonna cut it. You need to cook something impressive that doesn't require the mad skills and fancy equipment you don't have. Dear readers, it's about to get crass, so put your beer goggles on and enjoy the ride.
Here is the first installment of: The Maxim-type Dude's Guide to Getting Laid By Convincing Girl To Come Over For Dinner Even Though Dude Can't Cook Worth Shit!
The Basics: First of all, clean your house. Clear out the bathroom of anything suspect (ex-girlfriend's tampons, your dog-eared issues of Penthouse, etc.) because, believe me, we will be poking around. Go to Crate and Barrel (or, if you've got money to burn, Moss) and buy two complete sets of matching dinnerware -- plates, spoon, knives, forks, glasses. And nothing says class like cloth napkins. Now add a couple of unscented tealights on the table and a short-vased floral arrangement so you two can ogle each other across the table without having to tilt your heads.
Some notes on the cooking process: Cooking, like sex, is about timing as well as skills. Cooking is also like sex in that the foreplay leading up makes the main event that much better. Have your lucky girl come over at 7:00 for a 7:30 dinner -- not only will the food be hot and ready to be eaten while she's there, but also she can whet her appetite with aromas, witness your mad multi-tasking and draw conclusions about your sexual prowess.
And here's our first contestant:
The Girl: She's a meat and potatoes kind of girl. She's got the right kind of junk in her trunk and you want to be the key that pops it open. She thinks Italian food is exotic and she wouldn't touch any kind of seafood with a ten foot pole.
The menu: Steak and mashed potatoes. Steamed Asparagus with butter. Haagen Dazs Vanilla with strawberries if they are in season, with limoncello if they are not.
The steak: get a couple of dry aged porterhouse steaks from the butcher. You can't go wrong with a nice, tasty dry aged steak. Buy them the day you're going to have your dinner and leave the steaks out of the fridge so they can come to room temperature. Rub them with olive oil, then sea salt and pepper right before they go four inches from the broiler. Two to three minutes on each side for medium rare, then let the steak rest for five minutes. Why? This allows the meat to soak up and hold its own juice, so the juice is released in your mouth, not wasted in a bloody mess on the plate.
The potatoes: get some Yukon Gold, white, or russet potatoes. Peel them. "Smashed" potatoes with skins on them are absolutely neanderthal and they will not get you laid with anyone who's got taste. Quarter the potatoes. Boil them in salted water til done. Drain them well. Now, get thee a potato ricer, man's best friend when it comes to making smooth mashed potatoes. The potato ricer is like a huge garlic press, and on the fine setting, it will make hassle-free, super-smooth potatoes in seconds, without the elbow grease. Heat up some milk and butter in a pot on medium low heat til the milk is hot but not burnt and the butter melts. Add to your potatoes and mix with a light hand.
The asparagus: Get some fat asparagus. Pencil asparagus will make her think pencil dick, and if you're going to feed her some suggestive veg, you might as well make the right kind of suggestion. Asparagus is available all year round these days, and much of it comes from Peru. Make sure that the buds at the top are closed and tight, and not too dry. Feel the tips, then sniff them. If the tips are soft and mushy, or if it smells strongly of aspara-pee, the asparagus will not hold up. Cut a good inch and a half off the bottom, two inches if they seem especially woody. (I personally don't think the trick of snapping the end off works so well.) Peel the bottoms of the spears with a vegetable peeler -- you'd be amazed at how this one little trick will make you seem like the classiest guy on earth. Steam them until they change from dull green to bright kelly green and are cooked all the way through without being mushy, 3-4 minutes. Finish with some melted butter and salt.(I once made the mistake of telling some inexperienced guys to cook the asparagus until it changed color. 15 minutes later, the asparagus was a sick shade of puce and had become gassy mush.)
Your girl's not a meat and potatoes kind of girl? Stay tuned for my cliffs notes version of Brillat-Savarin for the modern man. We will explore the delicate palates of the elusive vegetarian, the common Atkins girl, the wily epicure, and any other sweeping stereotypes I can think of. Have any suggestions?
*Special thanks to Thomas for kicking my ass into posting...again...sorry kids...
Dear Ganda:
I guess my story about buying A Chef In Wolfs Clothing hit the spot when were on line. Mental telepathy or just luck. The book made my living in Japan in the eraly 50s a wonderfully fun experience.
When i finally landed in NYC to attend Columbia, the book agin was my godsend and ticket to an inexpensoive love life. On my limited $ there was no way I could take ladies out to dinner, dancing etc and then hopefully home to bed. But cooking and dining at home was to key.
My 14 yr opld son and I found a copy of the book at the Strand book store and the recipes are still OK.
You write very well, can we talk one on one about doing some things for my website. I need all the help I can get and in exchange I would be willing to give you an interest in the project. Then if it is ever sold or starts to make money you will have a pice of the action.
I will be atttending a New School cooking class June 25 in NYC. A shopping tour of Chinatown.
I will meet my wife and son at 5:45 at Q hairstyling on Bleecker. D o you wnat to join us for dinner, possibly Vietnamese in Chinatown, unless you have a suggestion.
Marc