Do YOU like butter?

Owning your preferences

Several years ago, I took my wife, Erin, to lunch at Paul Rothe & Son, a small deli in London’s Marylebone neighborhood. It’s one of my favorite kinds of places: time-worn (operating since 1900), untouched by trend, unapologetically itself.

I insisted she try their Coronation Chicken Salad, an English classic made each morning. I sat in the small dining area while Erin ordered at the adjacent counter.

“For you, miss?” the woman behind the counter asked.

“Coronation Chicken sandwich, please.”

“What kind of bread?”

“Wheat.”

“Do you want butter?” Erin looked back at me to ask my preference. I was face down in my phone, unavailable.

Turning back to the woman behind the counter, she asked, sheepishly: “…do people get it with butter?”

“Well…do YOU like butter?”

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Last week I flew to NYC for a few days. On my final morning, I was traipsing around the West Village.

Pulling up Google Maps, I saw the newly opened outpost of L’Appartement 4, the buzzy, line-inducing bakery, was only a few blocks away, and was opening in four minutes. I headed that way, thinking: perhaps a drizzly Friday morning would be the time to try it out, sans line.

I was right. When I arrived three minutes later, I was the only person there. I was almost immediately joined by another couple who fell in line behind me. As the team opened the windows (they serve from a walk-up streetside window) I overheard the couple behind me:

“What do people get here?”

“I’m not sure, let’s ask.”

I couldn’t help but think back to our experience at Paul Rothe & Son.

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The internet has enabled and encouraged groupthink, and it’s manifested itself across culture in many ways. In restaurants, the world with which I am most familiar, many people no longer order what they might like, opting instead for the safety of knowing this is the thing that everyone gets here. As if their own inclinations could not possibly be acceptable, they must have the safety of getting the “thing” that everyone else gets. And more often than not, posting on social media to communicate: Hey, I came to this place, and I got that thing that everyone says is so great.

Equally confounding is sitting down to dinner and asking, “what’s good here?” While I understand the question, a person should be in tune with their own taste. I could never trust a waiter to guide my order, simply because I know what I like, and they don’t. (The one exception I have to this rule is in Italy, where I will happily let a career server guide my order, redirect my enthusiasms, or just flat out tell me “You don’t want that.” They’re usually right.)

I don’t like soft shell crabs, even though we serve them in my restaurants, and many Southerners profess to love them. I would never order them just because a place sells a lot of them, or their customers “love them.” Their popularity doesn’t change my taste. And I’ve given it the old college try, and every time I can’t help but think: meh. I feel the same about foie gras. I’d rather have a bowl of Grape Nuts.

I encourage you to avoid this growing tide, know what you like (and what you don’t), embrace your appetites, and let it rip.

Do YOU like butter? (For the record: YES.)