Don't Know the Future But a Light is Waiting to Carry You Home

Right now two fictional families are calling to me from that powerful machine we call Hulu. The first, the semi-autobiographical Goldberg family from The Goldbergs, is loud and brash. The other, the Tanner family from Full House, is as calm and kind as the Goldberg family is loud and outspoken.

I have loved The Goldbergs since the beginning. Set in the 1980s, the show is a fun nostalgia trip. The Goldbergs is unlike any other sitcom family. Mom Beverly, a smother mother if there ever was one, swears like a sailor; dad Murray is most known for changing out of his work clothes immediately upon walking into the house and parking it in the recliner in his tighty whiteys and the three kids, Erica, Barry and Adam alternate between being angsty teens, supportive siblings and bitter rivals. The show’s recent episodes have been perfection. "The Goldberg Girls" incorporates 80s classic The Golden Girls and the opening features the entire family singing along to the show’s theme song “Thank You for Being a Friend.” To quote Murray, "Good song, great ladies. Blanche!" But the recent episode "Dinner with the Goldbergs" is a true tour de force. The idiosyncrasies of every family member shine under the institutional lighting of the chain steakhouse where they gather to celebrate Erica’s birthday. Beverly is in fine form: requesting a different table multiple times and hoarding rolls in her foil-lined purse. Murray nearly passes out from hunger, Pops befriends the diners at nearby tables, Adam wants to order off the adult menu despite his mother’s objection (he learns she was right), Barry freezes when it’s time to order and Erica tries her best to hold it together. Obnoxious yet lovable, the perfect balance. The fact that every episode ends with actual footage of creator Adam Goldberg’s family is the icing on the cake.

At the other end of the spectrum we find ourselves in the Tanner household. I grew up watching Full House and watching it now is pure nostalgia. Full House centers on widowed father Danny, his brother-in-law and his best friend who all live together to raise Danny's daughters in a pseudo Three Men and a Baby arrangement. Full House has a sugary sweet reputation. Every episode is a very special episode, a lesson is always learned and the ending is always happy. When DJ and Stephanie rip a hole in the wall while arguing it is a given that they will try to and fail to cover it up and that the lesson will be about the importance of telling the truth. We knew that when the bathroom flooded, when DJ scratched the car, when Stephanie told on borderline anorexic DJ, the list goes on. Everything you need to know about growing up can be learned on Full House. That is, assuming you are coming of age in a white, well-to-do, relatively sheltered San Francisco family. 

   

So how to explain the draw of these shows and their fictional families? Despite their seemingly opposite familial qualities they share one very basic theme: emotional acceptance. In both shows the characters get mad, sad, happy, nervous and feel every other emotion towards each other the world. And on both shows, rather than being stifled, that emotion is accepted. In the Goldberg and Tanner households it’s easy to identify with one of the characters depending on your mood that day, that hour, that year. 

The Kitch Lit Series: Building a Restaurant

Restaurateur Danny Meyer’s book Setting the Table is touted as a business book. True, sprinkled throughout there are some fantastic nuggets on management and hospitality that make the book required reading for all people in a position of leadership or, really, anyone, anywhere who has a job, coworkers and a boss. But in reality, Meyer’s book could easily be shelved with kitch lit because it’s a tour through the burgeoning New York culinary scene in the 80s and 90s. 

Founder of such legendary restaurants as Union Square Café, Gramercy Tavern and Shake Shack, Meyer is a decent writer and conveys his journey and that of his restaurants in a very readable way. Meyer shares some personal aspects of his journey from a food-loving Midwesterner to an aspiring chef to restaurateur but is mostly focused on letting the reader in on what he has learned over the course of his career. As a recovering manager of people I identify with and appreciate his management style and as a graduate of Disney’s Approach to Quality Service his approach to hospitality and service is on point. 

But for those of us reading Setting the Table for insights into the culinary world there is no shortage of interesting tidbits. The glimpse into the creation of now legendary restaurants with up and coming chefs such as Tom Colicchio and Kerry Heffernan is fascinating and the twists and turns, many of them unexpected and foundation shaking (losing an executive chef a week out from opening) provide for some colorful narratives. The opening of Blue Smoke is particularly interesting, who knew there were so many complexities to opening a barbecue joint in the middle of Manhattan?

Setting the Table is fun to read after Ruth Reichl’s Garlic and Sapphires because her time with the New York Times coincided with some of Meyer’s timeline and the different points of view are an interesting dichotomy. Read them one after the other in any order.

Setting the Table is a breezy read. Highly recommended from both a business and culinary perspective.