I’m not big into sports. I’ll watch the occasional football game. I keep up with NASCAR because I’m in a fantasy league and get to go out to the races on my employer’s dime. But basketball? Baseball? Even hockey? Not really.
But today, I realized that I have a professional level, maybe even an Olympic level gifting… at batting away compliments. If there was an Olympic category – in the summer Olympics, of course – for how far and fast you can bat away compliments, I’d set world records and win golds at a blistering pace! I’d wager good money that few in this world can compete at my level!
So, I made some ribs and fresh green beans for dinner for some friends over the weekend. I’ve never made ribs before, but I had in my mind a vision of ribs so divine, people would mistake their serving and the accompanying host of angels for the second coming! Because, of course, having never made them before, they would be epic!
The green beans are a problem for me. My recipe is based around my mother’s, whose are AMAZING. And yet, I can’t seem to quite achieve the same intensity of flavor that she coaxes out of them. I’ve watched her, numerous times, hoping to see the secret I’ve missed, but I just don’t see it.
Anyway, I worked hard on these ribs. Slow cooked them for hours. The smell in our house was, quite literally, intoxicating. By the time it was time to finish them on the grill, I was convinced I had achieved baby back rib nirvana.
We sit down to eat, say a quick grace, and I dig in. Normally I’m the type of cook who wants to wait until everyone else has tried the food, because I don’t want to miss their responses. This time, I dig right in – partially because I skipped lunch! Immediately, my heart sinks. The green beans? Not perfect. The ribs? Ridiculously tender, but the rub is too salty. I immediately start running down the food. I’m not sure anyone else had even gotten through their first bite!
Needless to say, the compliments were few, and half-hearted. And today? I find myself dejected and heavy-hearted, feeling my affirmation tank is bone dry. It was incredibly rude of me to cut off my friends’ desire to compliment my cooking. Was the food AMAZEBALLS? No. Was it better than good? Yes, I do believe it was. Was I a jerk? Absolutely.
So now the fun question, why? Why did I bat at those compliments like Babe Ruth swinging for the fences? My own insecurities. Because the food didn’t live up to the level of perfection I had imagined and convinced myself it should, to me that made the food crap. And by running it down immediately, I was removing any pressure my friends felt to compliment me on sub-par food. See what I did there? “Sub-par” as if it was below expectation, and not worthy. Would my friends pay me false praise? I don’t believe they are that kind of friends. Did anyone agree with my denigrations? Not really – half-heartedly, at best.
Yet again, I am reminded that there is no room for grace or mercy in my world, towards myself. Jon Acuff talks about the spot between good and perfect called “awesome”, and I really resonate with that idea. And yet when I hit somewhere between good and awesome, on my FIRST EVER ATTEMPT AT RIBS, I refuse to take any pride of affirmation from that. And then I cut off my friends at the knees when they try to affirm my work!
I’m sorry, my friends, for inviting you to a meal I worked hard to provide, that may not have been transcendent in execution but was still solid, and then rendering your opinions moot and making it clear that I didn’t want to hear them. I’ll make it up to you with another meal sometime soon?
2 opinions on “Swing for the Fences”
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The reality is that you are a well above average cook. Something to be proud of. Let’s face it, the whole “greatness” thing is on an asymptotic curve anyway. Chasing “greatness” without balance will only shorten your life. Asymptotic is my big word for the day – 19 points in scrabble, not counting any board bonuses.
Perhaps I had a third helping of those green beans, and kept picking at them in the bowl, was because I was trying to make you feel better. Yeah, that’s me – Captain Sensitive. …or perhaps it was because they were laced with bacony goodness. If you have any of those left over I’ll take them off your hands…purely for pity sake of course.
The reality is everyone at that table would still love you if you threw a loaf of bread, some cold cuts (packaged, not deli), and a jar of five-year mayo at us. I would have been required to poke you squarely in your perfectionism had you done so – but that’s my character flaw, not yours.
Sure, swing for the fences! Always swing for a home run. Just don’t let a solid triple leave you empty…and (this part’s going to sting a little)…joyless.
Here’s the deal…I thought the meal was great! Loved the beans that didn’t live up to your expectations. I thoroughly enjoyed the ribs! They were fall of the bone tender and the run had a good flavor. I think it also speaks well of your ribs when the preteen goes back for more. That doesn’t always happen.
What did I enjoy the most? The time well spent with friends whom I had been missing dearly and watching our kids play well together. I could tell that you and Maria had put in more than enough effort into the meal and I appreciated it! It was better than our pitiful salad we brought! I go for company, the meal is a bonus!