The flavor of insecurity

I know it's such a tired topos, the 'writing about the in-laws' thing. But please bear with me, because I'm going to lay down some fancy writer-type metaphor shit with it eventually, okay?

My guy's parents are good people, really. And I don't want to get dooced here, because irrespective of how I write this, I imagine feelings would be hurt if someone did just a bit too much creative Googling someday. But just in case they do, I am going to be guarded and say that they only drive me batshit loco to the degree that all inlaws of everyone, by dharmic decree, must.

If you don't know me you might think I blog about food more than enough; but if you do, you're probably surprised I don't do it more. That's a rather long-winded way of saying that I am obsessive about food, and about cooking. Which brings me back to my in-laws. One of their most puzzling and dismaying traits is this: They are extremely interested in food, and can talk at such great length about restaurants and meals and specifically what restaurant they chose in a place I will never visit, and precisely what they ordered and how was the service and how did it compare to another place I will never ever be and please please stop my ears are bleeding sell me into indentured servitude do what you will but I beg of you LET IT BE. I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S HEINER.

And they do seem to know, I will begrudgingly say, what is good. When they eat it at a restaurant.

But I can objectively say that my dear mother-in-law is a disgraceful cook. So why don't they seem to know that? Why is it that food in their home, that I am convinced would be regarded by them with much scorn if they were served it in a restaurant, receives sincere praise from my father-in-law when issued from the hands of his wife?

I have seriously considered the possibility that they have two sets of tongues--that they keep the nice one for special, when they dine out.

I've been brooding about this for a while. This year we had our first night Passover seder with my side of the family. One of the highlights of that traditional meal was the simple pleasure of the matzoh ball soup: a clear, concentrated and intensely flavored broth made by my uncle, and my mother's matzoh balls, impossibly both light and rich, and abundantly seasoned with pepper and ginger. Then, on the way back home, we stopped at my in-laws for a second night seder, and I listened (and blinked in noncommittal response) to my father-in-law praise his wife's soup as I sipped what resembled--to my palate--contact lens wetting solution, and ate what must have been wadded balls of Wonder® bread floating in it.

Are you still waiting for that metaphor thingie?

Here's the other thing I've been brooding about. I read some. I am, I'd say, overeducated in the reading-to-writing spectrum. And I notice myself, increasingly, making such very fine distinctions, within the privacy of my own skull, about just how good such-and-such writing is--who's just sublimely, insanely good; who's clever; who has something to say, though I may not be the one, exactly, who needs to be reading it, today. Or maybe, ever. And a thousand increments in between.

But just since *peeks look at archives column* March, I've joined the ranks, in some minuscule way, of those I read. In the world of print publishing, 'vanity publishing'--finding some obliging 'publisher' who, for cash up front, is be willing to put your miserable tome between covers so that you can be an 'author'--is a roundly scorned practice. But all I have to do is pony up my monthly small fee to TypePad, and I now put out my vanity publication whenever I have a free moment. That is one way of looking at blogging, though those with the bandwidth to back it up know that the analogy is very limited.

But, in any case, I find myself wondering: do I, too, taste my home-cooked blog with a different tongue than the one I use for everything else?

Comments

[Mir]

The concept of two sets of tongues is intriguing and very, very frightening at the same time.

Some people... particularly people of a "certain generation" (was that PC enough?) expect restaurant fare to be fabulous and expect home-cooked food to be filling and bland. I'm guessing your in-laws may be of that ilk. (I know my grandparents were like this and--like you--it always baffled me.)

As for your own view, of your blog or anything else... the very itch to ponder these things makes it unlikely, in my opinion, that you own a set of blinders like the ones described.

[Genuine]

Tastes better than chicken!

[Chris]

Interesting, thought provoking, all around meaty post. Vanity publishing? Nothing wrong with that. I think those of us who blog indulge in a certain amount of vanity on a regular basis.

[Lee]

I think it depends on how you view what a blog really is. Is it a diary? Is it a documentation of your life? Is it a place to just write and experiment with writing styles? Is it a place to practice your writing skills? Is it a place to express your viewpoints about politics, religion and various issues because no magazine or other "paper" published medium will have you?

I think anyone who is critical of themself will always view their blog with a different eye than others. that same person will be critical of everything else in their life. Cooking, blogging - nothing is safe.

[Suzyn]

I, too, love cooking, because it's not about thinking. It's about chopping and slicing, stirring and simmering and doing the work of creating something without worrying about what that something means--Zen and the Art of Smoked Pork, as it were. Does it taste good? Then you've done your job. Does it read well? Do you enjoy it? Does it bring you pleasure and satisfaction and challenge you? Then you're fine. Sometimes us liberal arts majors need to stop thinking so much--it isn't constructive, really, it's, as Helen Garp called it, 'building useless shelves.'

[Melissa]

Now see, when I think of my in laws, I wonder how they can see themselves as anything less than cruel and calculating evil people....do I have blinders?

I do the same thing (mentally comparing and evaluating everything I read and everything I write) and I think the blinding insecurity is part of this thing and drives me to try harder.

Though sometimes it makes me want to 'put my fingers in a blender' and move along with my weary life.

[jilbur]

I think it depends on how you view what a blog really is. Is it a diary? Is it a documentation of your life? Is it a place to just write and experiment with writing styles? Is it a place to practice your writing skills? Is it a place to express your viewpoints about politics, religion and various issues because no magazine or other "paper" published medium will have you?
Huh. I'd have to say d) none of the above. I guess I don't consider what I do here so much 'expression,' which seems to be about me having a need to put it out, as simply 'product'--that product, being textual. Creative, too, of course. Why did I start churning out 'product'? Really, I'm not quite sure why. It's kind of like asking why people want to have children, isn't it? There's no satisfactory answer. I haven't the slightest idea whether print publishers would 'have' me (what an enticing thought! I wonder if they're cute?), as I haven't given them a try, and candidly don't plan on it (unless they come begging, but I'm not holding my breath ... )

I think that my academic training comes into play here--I recognize a lot of intersections in the various forms of cultural products, so that complicates how I categorize them in my mind. Blogging is a format, not a genre, right? But it's still somewhat novel, and it's uncertain to me what kind of cultural product it's turning out to be. Whatever that is, I'm part of it somehow, now.

[alice]

I think you're too smart. Do like me and watch more television; you'll feel better. Let your brain rest. Feel your IQ descending. Ah--isn't that easier?

As for you having two tongues, all I can say is, EW. I'm glad we never met up in the city because that would have seriously FREAKED me out. A ha ha ha ha ha! Haaargh! Yeah.

Re: writing, cooking, similarities between: I don't think bad writing (which, hello, yours is so NOT) is as much of an assault as a bad meal. It's so much easier to walk away from someone's blog than it is to stand up from the dinner table and knock over a bowl of matzoh-ball soup. Although my son has no problem with this particular gesture.

Also--I just spent 24 hours with my in-laws, and as my blog is oh-so-public (because I had to be all, look at me! look at me, with my real name!) and I can't bitch with the abandon I'd like, your post was like a soothing balm to my inflamed nerves. (Speaking of bad metaphors.) I think I may now be clinically insane.

[zeno]

The writerly metaphor was magnificent, I am a fan of metaphor, especially when it is a sneaky way of fishing for compliments.

However, your fiching will certainly come up with a net full of big ones (see... metaphor). I come by quite often and I think your writing is excellent, It is well thought, well structured, well presented and, more than any of that shit, entertaining. And not in a light overfluffy Wonderbread way. You have substance and style and I like it.

OK, adoration over for the nonce... keep writing, I dine out all the time and this is at least of Michelin quality.