Practice Like You're Ready

And you actually will be.

I thought a lot this year about the concept of preparing yourself for the things you want to do in life. And then had a dining experience that confirmed those thoughts.

I’d been invited to preview a restaurant’s new menu, and although I’m a solo dining extraordinaire, going with 1-2 additional people goes a long way as far as being able to try a variety of offerings. And instead of always inviting people from my core group of food friends, this year I started inviting folks who engage regularly with my food content on social media, listen to my podcast, or subscribe to this blog as a way of saying thank you for investing time and interest in me and my creative endeavors, and it was in this sense that I ended up at dinner with a young man I’d met at a few culinary events earlier this year as well as a friend of his, both of whom are students of San Francisco’s City College culinary program.

Over dinner, they talked to me about Chef’s Table, the college’s student run restaurant. I knew culinary schools often had these kinds of offerings and always wanted to try one out. I made a reservation for what turned out to be a beautifully sunny day in the city and headed over to Smith Hall on the hill, not quite knowing what to expect.

I walked in to the sound of soft jazz, white tablecloths, delicate floral accents on each table, and students of all ages and stages delivering an experience I’d expect in an actual restaurant setting: confirming my reservation at the host stand, walking me to my table where a tented “reserved” sign was waiting for me, pulling out my chair (I rarely experience that in actual restaurants). My server came by and introduced herself and went over the menu in more detail. Seasonal and not overly extensive, I was glad to not have tons of choices to make. She recommended the kumquat pink peppercorn spritzer, and I enjoyed its light, citrusy profile and the little pops of spice from biting into the berries (as citrus season is actively in full effect, I plan on re-creating a version of this drink at home.)

A man came by while I waited for my appetizer, delivering a wedge of challah bread accompanied by a perfect quenelle of butter which he described as cultured, 1%, inoculated with probiotic sour cream, and finished with sprinkles of fleur de sal. Impressive.

My appetizer and salad showed up at the hand of a server with one arm politely folded behind his back, just as I’d expect in a fine dining setting; it was a tuna carpaccio with whispers of fennel fronds, herbaceous and fatty and perfectly salted. The salad held its own, with escarole, persimmon, pomegranate and parmesan as a vehicle for what was my favorite element; hazelnuts with a deep, toasted nuttiness.

My friend comes by the table; he’s in his service white jacket which has his name embroidered on it, and I’m immediately proud of him. He mentions the special, a scallop risotto dish not listed on the menu. While the duck leg confit was where I’d originally planned on landing as far as an entree, I love a good recommendation, and I gladly took it. The dish followed the fennel frond continuum with a rich sauce that I dragged my remaining challah through.

Earlier in the meal I’d seen a dessert cart wheeled to a group of dinners nearby (something I don’t see often in restaurants anymore that I wish would make a widespread return), and now it was my turn. My server pulled up and parallel parked at my table, and the perfectly lined spread included an assortment of gourmet cookies, a lemon tart with a torched meringue, a flourless chocolate cake, and a creme brulee…..with a mushroom infusion???? This was a no-brainer. My choice was made, and with my first spoonful after cracking the top I detected the slight flavor of honey, my server confirming the sugar was lightly drizzled with it before torching. Vanilla bean flecked, it came topped with two gorgeous, crisp, wafer-thin pieces of palmier that were buttery and caramelized with brown sugar and a pinch of salt. They were perfection.

Of course this kind of meal isn’t complete without a cappuccino, and I’d made note of the coffee station when I first entered; they served up a frothy cup, and as I sat and sipped, I thought about my own work in food media this year and what it means to be in training, preparing for some bigger, unknown moment to do all the things I’d been working on, even though what mostly exists right now is the work and the process, and the faint beginnings of greater opportunities. The art of the dress rehearsal in expectation of what’s to come. It was just the inspo I needed.

Kahja Elliott is a digital creator, food enthusiast/traveler, and podcaster in Oakland, CA.