Whaddya Gonna Do?

Gert Buchbinder worked closely with me throughout my first cooking job. She was the senior citizen mother of one of the company's owners. I loved Gert. She wouldn't chop onions, eat fruit, drive after 5pm or in the rain. She taught me a handful of useful Yiddish phrases. She also taught me the futility of control through her favorite, and oft-muttered phrase: "Meh. Whaddya gonna do?"

Most professional cooks are control freaks (present company included, I'm sorry to say) You HAVE to be a little controlling to be a decent cook. You have to control the flame on your burner to get the right sear on your meat. You have to control the salt to bring out the flavor in your sauce without overwhelming it. You have to control your knife to work quickly and accurately. You have to control all the elements of your recipe, preferably by having a good mise en place. You have to control your urge to let a string of bad words fly when you get burned.

Gertie, though, had seen it all and was well aware that there were some things that were simply beyond anyone's control. You might never be able to please a diner with tastes that run counter to your style of cooking. The pineapples might come in green all week long. You might get stuck in another task and leave the cheesecake in the oven too long, rendering it drier than you like. At times like those, Gert would just shrug and say, "Meh. Whaddya gonna do?"

What ARE you going to do? Go home crying because someone didn't love your cooking? Or shake them by the lapels and tell them to develop a real palate? Go into litigation with Dole for shipping fruit too early? Make another 3-hour cheesecake when the event is in an hour and a half?
Throw a saucepot at the wall?

In her experience, Gert knew there wasn't a darn thing you could do. You just get up every day and try your best. Sometimes it works out. The lights turn green before you hit the intersection. The souffles rise and never fall. The customers think you have a gift. Other times, everything goes wrong. You wake up late and everything is behind schedule. Someone bumps into the temperature knob on the oven and turns your tender braise into a hockey puck. A customer lets you know, in no uncertain terms, that you swung and missed. In any case, it begs the question: "Meh. Whaddya gonna do?"

We can't control for everything. Not in cooking, nor in life. You just get up every day and try your best.

There's no reason to hoch mier en chinik...it wouldn't do any good anyway.