what do you want?

On not being good at ordering from restaurants and wanting it all and being too curious for your own good

Hey, stranger.

My favorite restaurant in Seattle is a neighborhood Italian place in Montlake called Café Lago. Its floors are black and white checkerboard vinyl, the tables neat little four tops with white cloths and electric candles, the wall behind the bar lit up in orange glow. The bathroom has an old, mahogany dresser for women to hang their coats in and half of the tables sit along the windows open to the street. I’ve sat there for many a dinner, and is the first place I eat at when I visit my former home.

the bar at Café Lago

Every time I go to Café Lago, I want to order something new off the menu, just to try it. Michael will shake his head at me, “you’re going to regret it again.” He’s right. There was the time I ordered pesto gnocchi and it was far too creamy for me. Then the time I got a mushroom dish and it was mostly butter. But I can’t help it— there’s a little voice in my head that says if you don’t at least try it, you won’t know if you like it or not.

I know the ordering habits of most of my friends. I’d consider it a love language but it’s more of a need to find the story behind even the most mundane actions. I once dated a guy who would mime the eating action of whatever he was deciding between to see if he’d enjoy it. We didn’t last long. When it comes to myself, I tend to impulsively order the item that has something I’ve been craving, or the item I am most curious about. I’m sure there’s a very clear pattern of flavors that people gravitate towards based on their upbringing and preferences. But I’m not interested in that, I’m interested in the “Oh, Rachel, they have gnocchi” or “Lillian, that dish has sweet potato, just warning you” or “Are you going to get that Negroni again?” Moments that prove just how well you know someone’s thought patterns, how they think, what they like. I take it as a declaration of closeness to someone when you know exactly what they want. For me, the conversation is usually something like this:

“Do you think I should get the tuna ceviche?”

“You got that last time, at that place downtown, remember? You didn’t like it.”

“I know, but this one has mango.”

“If you get it, you have to finish it, no stealing mine.”

“I’m not going to steal yours. I think I’ll like it.”

And then I usually don’t, and indeed steal from someone else’s plate. This is what happened when I ordered a heaping pile of smoked salmon in Sweden and made my dad scarf it down while I happily slurped on his seafood stew. I can’t help it— I can’t stand the not knowing.

Over dinner the other night my beautiful, wise friend Mia told me that she believes if you know what you want, the world will conspire to help you achieve it. The idea of that— the world watching out for you, intentional about what path it places you on— is comforting. The only problem? I don’t know what I want. It’s why I order the out of pocket item on the menu and sometimes regret it. It’s why I am so jealous of people who know exactly what they want once they’ve sat down to eat. Or they know the type of thing they won’t like.

My opinion has always been that if you are able to choose what you want or don’t want in your life, what a shame it would be to waste that. If you have the choice, why choose anything other than exactly what you want? But, reader, what if I don’t know what I want? What if there’s something out there that I’ll like more? What if I change my mind? These questions run little concentric circles in my head, and I don’t have an answer to any of them.

Mia’s words kept ringing around in my head over the past week, naturally. I’m not sure that being adventurous when ordering food is a bad thing, I certainly think it keeps things interesting, but I do believe there is a lot of value in knowing myself well enough to not order the tuna ceviche, since, well, I don’t like ceviche.

I’ve been trying to figure out what I want in recent years, from working every position on a product development team, to saying yes even when I’m scared, to adopting clothes from friends even when they’re not my style, to living in 5 cities in 5 years. I have to admit that I still don’t really know, and I still order from left-field at restaurants, but I think I’m getting closer. In some ways my curiosity at trying everything has hurt me. Maybe I’d be further along in my career or as a person if I chose one path and stuck to it. But I didn’t and here we are. Perhaps better off, perhaps not. Again, I’m getting there.

a list I found from February with types of clothes I like to wear

I want to be good at tennis. Or at least good enough that I can play with my friends and family. Maybe good enough that people say “you’re really good for someone who’s only played a few months” which, if we’re honest, is what we all want to hear anytime we start anything new.

I want to be a brilliant product manager. I want my experience as an engineer and a designer to have paid off the way I planned it to. I want to work on challenging projects and be really, really good at my job.

I want to host writing events. Or go to them. I have so much fun talking to

allie wisniewski

about writing and I want a community of people who also love to talk about it.

I want someone to offer me a job opportunity that somehow is a perfect mix of all the things I’m good at and passionate about. This is most likely delusional but still, I want it.

I want to be a good writer. I don’t write evie en rose to make money from it, but I do want at least a few readers to feel comforted by my words. I want to write what I want to read. I want someone to feel seen by the experiences I think I’m alone in.

I want people to like my style. This one is silly because I like my own style, so I guess it doesn’t matter. But secretly, I want people to like my outfits and be inspired to copy something I’ve worn.

I want to be taken seriously.

I want to be smart. I want to pick concepts up quickly at work and make connections between complicated ideas with ease. I want to be well informed and well read and well opinionated.

I want to either not care about prestige or have a career that grants me some.

I want to be a good designer. Whether that be on work or passion projects, I want to make beautiful things.

I want to be someone that people want to be friends with. I want to be reliable and fun to go out with and supportive when it’s needed but honest when it counts. I want people to want to be my friend because I’m a good person.

I want to be a good runner. I often say that running is not about the pace for me but I would, obviously, love to be hitting a 7:30 split.

I want to snap my fingers and acquire the personality trait, or skill, of patience. That sentence is oxymoronic but you get what I mean.

I want to not care about the way I look while somehow being breathtakingly beautiful. This is kind of a joke but kind of not. We all want it.

I want a lifestyle that allows me to travel and go to events in foreign cities so that I can eat my fill of the world.

I want to be totally and completely chill in all circumstances ever. Kidding. But I do want to acquire the kind of self confidence that can carry me through all sorts of unfamiliar territory.

I want to learn how to do my hair so that it looks put together. I want to find a deodorant that doesn’t stain my shirts. I want to remember to wear sunscreen every day and not worry that I’m somehow wasting it when I work inside all day.

I want to spend my birthday in New York City at least once.

I want to learn self defense so that I’m not as scared walking in the dark.

I want people to feel safe around me.

I want to feel like I am contributing to the world. Through my job or my impact on people or the places I volunteer or the values I hold.

I want to be the type of person to follow through when I say “oh, we should do that someday.” I want to be the one to make the plans, to book the flight, to endure the long travel days and stress of hosting and headaches from itinerary plans.

Finally, I want to be 80 years old one day, eating peanut butter from the jar, wrinkly as hell, and proud of myself. I want to be proud that I went after things with abandon. Maybe these years of ordering dishes I don’t like will lead to me knowing what I want without doubt. I won’t have to try the pesto gnocchi because I already have, I won’t want to take an engineering job because I already tried it, I won’t wear orange because I know I hate how I feel in it.

I hope that you are figuring out, or know, what your goals are. I hope the universe is conspiring to give you whatever it is you want, wherever you are. I hope that you know you can always want something else, at any age, and I hope you’re brave enough to chase it.

xoxo,

Evie

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