As I think back over the weekend...and tried to decide which BBQ was best...I had a problem. Was anyone perfect? Did anyone earn a hundred percent? More importantly, did anyone cook it as well as I do, or as good as my grandma makes her collards? Probably not. However, I have to give an explanation that explains my total immodesty in that last statement. The one thing good food has in common, always, is the love of the people behind it shining through. At all of these places, the waiters and cooks, owners and cashiers we encountered were incredibly polite and accommodating. I really felt that each and every one of them wanted us to enjoy the food as much as we did. The question is: do you see this in other forms of cuisine? Is it as easy to see years of tradition on a plate when looking at a stuffed rockfish, as it is when you see a hot smoky pile of meat that you knew that took many hands and years to create? To me, it is not. No one can recreate tradition without truly participating in the culture that surrounds it. To understand that a customer needs a pitcher of tea, and a sink right in the middle of the dining room shows not only concern of the technical aspects of cooking a meal but also concern for the customer’s general well being. So if I had to rate my grandma’s collards against everyone else's, they might get nines. But she gets a ten because she chopped and cleaned and seasoned, not because she wanted praise, but because she wanted me to eat my vitamin D. That’s good cooking.
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