What's for Dinner?

Do you plan dinner? I do. I ask Christopher what he wants for dinner for the first time each day at about 10 am. I will ask him a few more times throughout the day. He finds this extremely annoying. He prefers to wait until dinnertime to decide, and I have tried to explain to him why this does not work. I must have precious time. Time to defrost, time to make sauces, time to roast or chop or anything else. Plus, I want to enjoy the process of cooking and serving and enjoying my creation. I don't like eating at 8 pm, especially if I was hungry at 6 and dinner was decided upon at 6:30. But, Christopher gets an appetite for dinner about the same time he gets hungry for dinner. Until then he truly has no idea what he'll want to eat.

Christopher insists that I get this "all day dinner" trait from my mother, who plans meals days in advance. In fact, I remember her writing out a menu each Sunday for the upcoming week. As a single mother working two jobs, time was a luxury she couldn't afford, and efficiency was a must. That meant defrosting a pound of ground beef in the fridge while she was at work and my sister and I were at school. She could whip up something quick on those busy nights (yes, I did have the occasional Hamburger Helper meal as a kid), when cheerleading practice (my sister's) and guitar lessons (mine) took precedence over a leisurely sit-down dinner for three. Once I got older, I was the one starting dinner; doing prep work like chopping, then more difficult tasks like sauteeing, spicing, and eventually finishing the meal, but always waiting for Mom to come through the garage door to put her final stamp on whatever was being prepared that night.

Cooking was instinctual to her; she could tell by a sniff what was lacking in a marinara sauce. Instead of measuring out the missing ingredient with a spoon, she "eyeballed" it. For a novice (and nervous) chef, this habit was both interesting and infuriating. There were a few times that I tried this technique, to disastrous results. Where time was lacking, money was even more scarce. A dinner that no one wanted to eat was food wasted and therefore money wasted, and for a long time I truly thought I would be better off just sticking to the Hamburger Helper.

But I noticed, that when my mom had time to spare, to do something "for herself" (which is a total joke that you only 'get' when you're a mom)...she spent that time in the kitchen. Experimenting with with more complex recipes. Making a delicious apple pie (from scratch, natch) for someone who just had a baby, or was sick, or deemed worthy of such an extravagant gift. Teaching me how to bake the perfect chocolate cake (no stomping around the kitchen while it bakes though!) or how to properly roast a pork tenderloin. You get the idea. Cooking, while and time-consuming and tiring, was for my mom also a means of expression, both of art and love.

Fast forward to last night, when I told Christopher I was planning a supper of tomato-basil soup with the garlic presently roasting in the oven. I yelled my plans to him out the dining room window, because he was outside playing with Max. And since he was outside, he could smell our neighbors grill, and the chicken on it, and dinner plans were changed in an instant. It took me over an hour to defrost the chicken, oven barbecue it, make all the sides that go with it, and wait for Christopher and Max to return home from Costco, where they had gone to get some foil and extra barbecue sauce. And dinner. Yup, you read that right, while I was at home making dinner, Christopher had bought dinner out. He knew that since I had not "planned" chicken in advance, it would be a lot of extra work. He knows me well. We had a good laugh about it and today, will have leftover bbq chicken (I'm thinking a bbq chicken salad sammich sounds good)...

The Business of Starving

I thought that starting this whole thing would be so easy. I'd hand out a clever take-out menu, people would order and have their minds blown by a superior tuna sammich. Little did I know...

Having a good product is not enough! I mean, I can cook. Really. I learned from my mom, who is amazing in the kitchen. I have eaten at some of the coolest restaurants out there. I watch the Food Network religiously. And I'm creative. All that equals success, right?

Um, no. There is a teensy little glitch in the system--the fact that I have no marketing experience, or business experience in general. Which means, that although I can make a sandwich that will rock your world, I may not have the chance to, if no one knows I exist. I have a profile for the company on Facebook and Twitter, and I have heard from many of my friends, who have been totally supportive and keep my spirits up even when I cannot see the light at the end of this very, very long tunnel. But I only have three Facebook friends who actually live in the Nashville area, and zero who work at the Factory.

So, much to my chagrin, I have had to put a hold on the creative side of this endeavor and instead, don my "businesswoman" cap for the past week or so. I am learning about restaurant marketing, licensure, LLC stuff, other mysterious government stuff, pricing, food costs...and on top of that, navigate for the first time the unfamiliar world of the internet. Yup, you read that right. My internet capabilities are limited to checking e-mail, Facebook, and listening to music on Pandora. I had (have, possibly) no idea how to create a website or blog, and I still don't understand Twitter.

There, I said it.

But I'm learning something else, too. I can do this. I am writing a blog right now. I have changed the website, changed it again, and again. I am working on a plan for direct marketing that is both efficient and creative. My "businesswoman" cap actually fits quite nicely.

And if I ever have a question, my business-minded husband is in the next room. Thank God.

Coming Soon to Fraklin...

The Starving Arist is coming to the Factory in Franklin, TN. April 18th!!!