CHOOSING CHOICE: THE RIGHT CHOICE FOR YOU

Choosing choice is as American as America gets. From remembering to mind your own business, to ‘Don’t Tread On Me,’ we are a nation of individuals.

And because we come from all points of the compass, not everyone agrees with everyone else. One thing we practice, and need more, is agreeing about the freedom of choosing choice.

For example, the top image is kale salad, cubed tofu in barbecue sauce, and a platter of ribs. An empty roasting pan at the top had bone-in chicken thighs.

It was all on the table so fine diners could choose according to their taste and cultural identification. I got more than a few tofu questions.

The reviews came in leaning toward, “This is the best barbecued meat I’ve ever had.”

Not much comment on the tofu, but it was still such happy news I almost took my shirt off in celebration.

The key to a great spread? Choice. Pass on the pork for the chicken, the chicken for the pork, or both for tofu. Maybe some of each? It’s not some Army boot camp chow line manned by an E-4 with a bad attitude slamming slop on my plate.

How I choose choice

Here’s the easy way: ask what people like and give it to them.

Not so easy: ask what people like then give them what you think they should have.

Hardest of all: trusting my instincts to find the sweet spot for everyone.

It starts with a plan, which means schedule, which means you can fall behind if you don’t hustle. I fell behind an hour before the agreed time and caught up.

How?

I stopped at a store that had a pit master cooking ribs in the parking lot. I already had too many ribs and too much chicken, just not enough bbq sauce.

I asked the pit master how they prepped their ribs. She said she steams them for twenty minutes, paints on the sauce, and puts them on the grill.

When I got back home I looked at the rib packaging and interpreted the recipe. I had too much chicken and too many ribs and not enough grill.

So I preheated my oven to three fifty, put the chicken on the hot grill, took them off in ten minutes when they looked right, and cooked them in the oven.

I did the same with the ribs, but left them off the flame in the BBQ, adding more sauce and turning them to what passed for perfect.

Trusting my cooking instincts isn’t always a fan favorite for a reason: More than a few dinner tables ended up looking like gray mud on a plate. Too many mushrooms do it.

Why it’s tough choosing choice

Part of the choice job is finding which is the best between two things that look similar.

Is it a mistake that Diet Coke and Coors Light look similar? A coincidence, or a genius marketing move to help college kids transition from healthy sugar water without the sugar to bogus beer?

One promises you won’t turn into an overweight diabetic if you drink it; the other one not so much. Either way imagine fishing around in cooler and pulling one out.

Is it the right one? In spite of the all the information on each can, neither one says you’re going to hell for drinking it down.

There’s not a community of ‘helpers’ hounding you for your choice. Try and explain your choice and see how far you get.

“I like Diet Coke,” sounds a safe enough explanation, but not when the questioner hears, “I like Diet Coke and rum, and vodka, and whiskey, and gin, and heroin, and weed, while I worship the dark prince.”

“I like Coors Light,” takes a similar path when the questioner has their own answer when they ask why you drink it. They hear, “I like Coors Light because real beer makes me sick and that leads to rum, and vodka, and whiskey, and gin, and heroin, and weed, while I worship the dark prince.”

Exercise your right to choose and help others realize they even have a choice. In this case, everyone with a mouth and a hand to lift a can has the right to choose, and no one needs to tell them what is right.

In the world of legal choices, that’s how it works.