Neil Strauss’s advice–that not voicing expectations will likely yield to resentment–is usually applied to relationships. I take this to mean that, for example, if you don’t ask the kids to take out the trash or bring in the cans, but expect them to do so unbidden, you’re going down a path to resentment.
An avoidable path.
And hey: dinner and drinks work this way, too. By way of example, Rhonda and I often nip out to a joint around the corner, the Greenview Inn, for dinner and a cocktail. We have, on occasion, gotten a martinis or manhattans that were entirely too dry for our tastes. I make our Martinis at about a 6:1 ratio of gin to vermouth, and manhattans closer to 3:1. Rueing the prospect of slugging down another poorly made cocktail1; for reasons both epicurean and nutritional, I piped up: “Can you make that about 3:1?” The bartender reacted with surprise, remarking, “Oh, really sweet!”
“If you say so,” I replied.
He made them to our specs and they were fantastic.
I haven’t consistently adopted this strategy, but I have been trying to when I can. We had another chance last night, while dining at the Savoy (another local favorite, in part due to its proximity to our house). Rhonda had attended a farewell party for a colleague a few days before, and had been served an entirely-too-dry gin martini. I, too, had ordered their pork chop about a month ago, and after being serially treated to succulent chop after chop in our local haunts, the Savoy served me a bone-dry version of the same one night while we were out on a date nite.
I wanted to try the pork chop again last night at the Savoy; a number of non-steak options were tempting me, but the glory of a juicy chop on a cold January night?
Irresistible.
When TJ, our server, came over to ask about ordering dinner, I decided to speak up about my expectations, lest they fester into resentment. I told him that I’d ordered the chop once before, and why it wasn’t to my liking. He said he’d let the chef know how I liked it.
The chop arrived, an exemplar of the dish.
1 The popularity of dry vodka martinis–a boring if respectable standard cocktail–has unduly influenced people’s taste for properly balanced drinks.