“Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” To be clear, it most certainly does not. This is quite possibly the worst take on human relationships ever conceived. It’s a line from Love Story, a movie released in 1970. We’ve come a long way since then. We’ve come so far, in fact, that we’ve blown past the finish line and disappeared over the horizon in the opposite direction.

Millennials love apologizing. Maybe this tendency is the same as it ever was, but it seems particularly excessive with our generation. In the context of food, I encounter this most often when enjoying the hospitality of friends and acquaintances. “I’m sorry this is just from Costco. I’m sorry we didn’t have much time to cook today. I’m sorry we’ve only got tunafish hotdish.” And of course I understand why: cooking for a chef is intimidating.

I feel comfortable speaking on behalf of all food workers when I say: “I am so grateful to have someone else cook for me. If you like it, I certainly will. The simpler the better. Thank you.” Anthony Bourdain has famously expressed the same sentiment, a deep affinity for simple, unpretentious, home-cooked food “blessedly devoid of truffle oil.” We appreciate your hospitality all the more because we know how much effort it takes.

Curating is also part of cooking. This has become increasingly apparent to me as I’ve shifted from restaurant work to private cheffing. I don’t always have time for extended, equipment heavy projects like curing ham and smoking salmon. But I know where to source the good stuff and how to incorporate it, and that’s a skill, too.

This is all to say that providing food is just as gratitude-worthy as making it. A friend of mine and his wife recently moved into a new home and went on their first Costco run (#milestones). I was ecstatic to discover that he had procured croissants and chicken salad. It sounds simple, but that kinda purchase requires a clear vision. Finish it with a few grinds of black pepper and some bread-and-butter pickles from the pantry, and voila, instant classic. I had two.

I’ve had so many wonderful dishes recently that came with an apology on the side. A perfectly executed Caprese skewer with fresh cherry tomatoes, basil, mozzarella, and a balsamic drizzle. A bacon cheeseburger. French toast, bacon, and fruit. (Pro tip: you can always count on bacon). One of my absolute favorite potluck foods: a ham and Swiss cheese slider with a spread of butter, poppyseeds, onion, and prepared mustard.

Rest assured, the apologies were unnecessary.

We’re glad you’re cooking with us.

Cheers,

Sten and Mac

BOOK RECOMMENDATION

Kitchen Confidential. With the new biopic Tony now in theaters, it’s a good time to revisit the book that started it all. This is the memoir that launched Anthony Bourdain’s media career. By all accounts, Bourdain was a good, not gifted, chef. His culinary skills were not the source of his exalted status amongst folks in the restaurant industry. He was the favored celebrity because he told the stories of his zany coworkers with compassion, humor, and detail. And because he truly loved food. If you want a glimpse into chef life, Kitchen Confidential really is the gold standard.