The Eat Out/OrDer In Non-Cook
The Eat Out/Order In Non-Cook, also more introspectively and hyphen richly known as the Would-Rather-Eat-Out-Or-Order-In-Non-Cook, is the person who does not take cooking ability into consideration when staking his or her non-cook claim. To cook or not to cook really isn't the question. The question is preference, and The Eat Out/Order In Non-Cook is a person of action. And also a person of appetite.
FEATURED
WOULD-RATHER-EAT-OUT-OR-ORDER-IN-NON-COOK
Michael Z Jody
East Hampton, NY
WOULD-RATHER-EAT-OUT-OR-ORDER-IN-NON-COOK
Michael Z Jody
East Hampton, NY
"OK, so I must admit to being a tad uncomfortable about calling myself a “non-cook” (let alone a “picky grouchy” one). I actually like to cook (is that a shameful thing to admit on this site?) and I am a pretty good cook (is that worse?). However, I do gleefully fit into one category of non-cooking: Unless I am having friends over for dinner, I would ALWAYS rather go out to eat, than to cook. Always. And I would almost always rather order in too. Of course, living on the East End, the order-in option is not quite so enticing as it is in the city where you can order-in Thai, Indian, Turkish, (good) Chinese, El Salvadorian (mmmm, pupusas!), Afghani, BBQ, Greek, Veggie, Cuban, Ethiopian, and etc. And that is not even counting the available assorted wonderful street foods like pizza and gyros and cheese steaks and Mexi-Q.
When I lived in the city full-time, aside from the very occasional dinner party, my tiny kitchen with its hundred year old stove (no joke) was used for making coffee in the morning (which does not count as cooking, as I am assuming that nearly all of you non-cooks reading this can boil water…right?), and for storing cold drinks and yogurt and condiments. OK, and for keeping the ravenous roaches housed and contented enough that they stayed out of my bedroom. For the most part.
Now I realize that my category of Would-Rather-Go-Out-Or-Order-In-Non-Cook might be a bit too close to the Reluctant-Cook mentioned in the Non-Cook Manifesto, however there are some important differences. First off of course is the fact that the Would-Rather position is a point of preference, as opposed to the Reluctant position which represents, well, reluctance, disinclination, aversion. I prefer going out because it represents lower effort (no shopping, prepping, cooking, cleaning). It is also visually and socially more amusing. I am an inveterate people watcher, and eating at home is just…boring! (Sorry Leslie.)
Going out for a meal also affords far greater choices, immediately and without forethought. Immediacy and lack-of-foresight are two adjectives to which I must sheepishly own up. I tend to be impulsive, nor am I someone who studiously examines the landing area, so to speak. Do I feel like a bacon-cheese-burger from Rowdy Hall? Calories be damned! Do I feel like Citta Nuova’s grilled octopus? How about pizza from Sam’s, or BBQ ribs from Turtle Crossing? All are possible without a second’s forethought, effort or (best of all!) cleanup. And further, no one else has to suffer my choices. If Leslie wants to eat a nice healthy salad while I eat spaghetti carbonara, no worries. If someone else wants pork chops or liver (yeeech), all this and more is ever-feasible in the world of going-out or ordering-in. It is a wonderful world without limits. Other, of course, than the limits of one’s budget. But I must admit I find the cost of buying meals, preferable to the alternative cost of the exertion of shopping, prepping, cooking, and cleaning.
The sources of my would-rather-go-out-or-order-in-ness are easily evident. When I was growing up, my parents both worked. My sister, Nina, was four years older, and we all had different schedules (my dad was seldom home for dinner before eight or nine PM). Consequently, not only did we all often eat in different combinations at different times, but we often ate different things. In my family, the real communal family meals tended to be on the weekends when my mother was damned if she was going to slave in the kitchen. When I was little we went out as a family almost every Saturday night, and I remember those meals with great pleasure. It was then I learned to try everything. I can still recall the first time I tried sushi (which I now love) with great hesitation and no small amount of aversion. But I also recall joyously tasting pelmeni for the first time (you haven’t lived until you have tried pelmeni dipped in mustard and sour cream from the Russian Tearoom!), and Wiener Schnitzel, and my first spicy Szechuan dinner, and pesto and on and on. Sunday brunch was an equal satisfaction. My mother would send me and Nina out to the neighborhood deli for cold cuts and bagels and potato salad and house-made hotdogs and which my mother loved (she is German).
So there it is. I may have to own up to a fondness for cooking, but I believe I still belong on this website because I can honestly say that I would always, always rather go out!"
(Michael Z Jody, East Hampton, NY -- Fall, 2011)
When I lived in the city full-time, aside from the very occasional dinner party, my tiny kitchen with its hundred year old stove (no joke) was used for making coffee in the morning (which does not count as cooking, as I am assuming that nearly all of you non-cooks reading this can boil water…right?), and for storing cold drinks and yogurt and condiments. OK, and for keeping the ravenous roaches housed and contented enough that they stayed out of my bedroom. For the most part.
Now I realize that my category of Would-Rather-Go-Out-Or-Order-In-Non-Cook might be a bit too close to the Reluctant-Cook mentioned in the Non-Cook Manifesto, however there are some important differences. First off of course is the fact that the Would-Rather position is a point of preference, as opposed to the Reluctant position which represents, well, reluctance, disinclination, aversion. I prefer going out because it represents lower effort (no shopping, prepping, cooking, cleaning). It is also visually and socially more amusing. I am an inveterate people watcher, and eating at home is just…boring! (Sorry Leslie.)
Going out for a meal also affords far greater choices, immediately and without forethought. Immediacy and lack-of-foresight are two adjectives to which I must sheepishly own up. I tend to be impulsive, nor am I someone who studiously examines the landing area, so to speak. Do I feel like a bacon-cheese-burger from Rowdy Hall? Calories be damned! Do I feel like Citta Nuova’s grilled octopus? How about pizza from Sam’s, or BBQ ribs from Turtle Crossing? All are possible without a second’s forethought, effort or (best of all!) cleanup. And further, no one else has to suffer my choices. If Leslie wants to eat a nice healthy salad while I eat spaghetti carbonara, no worries. If someone else wants pork chops or liver (yeeech), all this and more is ever-feasible in the world of going-out or ordering-in. It is a wonderful world without limits. Other, of course, than the limits of one’s budget. But I must admit I find the cost of buying meals, preferable to the alternative cost of the exertion of shopping, prepping, cooking, and cleaning.
The sources of my would-rather-go-out-or-order-in-ness are easily evident. When I was growing up, my parents both worked. My sister, Nina, was four years older, and we all had different schedules (my dad was seldom home for dinner before eight or nine PM). Consequently, not only did we all often eat in different combinations at different times, but we often ate different things. In my family, the real communal family meals tended to be on the weekends when my mother was damned if she was going to slave in the kitchen. When I was little we went out as a family almost every Saturday night, and I remember those meals with great pleasure. It was then I learned to try everything. I can still recall the first time I tried sushi (which I now love) with great hesitation and no small amount of aversion. But I also recall joyously tasting pelmeni for the first time (you haven’t lived until you have tried pelmeni dipped in mustard and sour cream from the Russian Tearoom!), and Wiener Schnitzel, and my first spicy Szechuan dinner, and pesto and on and on. Sunday brunch was an equal satisfaction. My mother would send me and Nina out to the neighborhood deli for cold cuts and bagels and potato salad and house-made hotdogs and which my mother loved (she is German).
So there it is. I may have to own up to a fondness for cooking, but I believe I still belong on this website because I can honestly say that I would always, always rather go out!"
(Michael Z Jody, East Hampton, NY -- Fall, 2011)