we'll take a break from too many words this week. just a quick thought or two.
we had a lovely dinner last night at chef mickey neely's home. we talked about tons of shit with new and old friends alike: alaska. the chicago water taxi. learning to appreciate the lake as a resource in chicago. not donald trump. (not even one word. promise. it was weird.) but the thing that stuck with us the most was the discussion about kitchen culture.
most people these days are foodies. (damn that word to hadestown. also see below.) so most people have an inkling about kitchen culture. the kitchen can be a very intense place. it has to be: if you're going to serve beautiful, delicious food to hundreds of people over the course of 3 hours, you can't settle for anything less than perfection from you kitchen staff. it's a nearly impossible feat. but kitchens do it everyday aw low ver the whirled. everyday.
but. naturally. this leads to lots of yelling. can yelling be good? yes. can harsh but constructive criticism turn you into a better chef / cook? absolutely. in fact, it's likely necessary. but does this yelling cross the line? yes. often. and there's no need for that. some of the best restaurants in the world have perfectly cordial, scary-intense kitchens. criticism can be honest, direct, and harsh without crossing the line. but focusing entirely on the work product and not on the person.
how is this relevant to beer? it's not. it doesn't always have to be. we're people, too. just like corporations. y'dig? and this applies to life in general: keep your criticism constructive. don't get personal. you're much more likely to be taken seriously that way. and you're wayyyyyy f'ing cooler that way. f machiavelli; anyone who follows his lead is a child. (pretty sure he was a child when he wrote his shitty prince anyway.)
did we say we'd take a break from too many words this weak? maybe next.