Birthday Dinner: A Debrief

The second-system effect hits the fan.

Fred Brooks was an engineering manager at IBM. He learned some things while developing OS/360, and wrote a book about them, called The Mythical Man-Month. The title refers to the practice of planning a project, determining that it should take some number of people working some number of months, a tidy sum of "man-months." The math suggests that you could finish sooner by adding more people, spreading the workload out. Experience disputes this: adding more people could not just be wasteful but could delay the entire project. Why this is often so — it's not an ironclad rule, as it may vary by people and project — is interesting, but not relevant here.

What is relevant is another point he came up with, which he called second-system effect:

the tendency for a successful first system (often small and relatively elegant) to be followed by a second system that becomes over-engineered or bloated. The effect is commonly attributed to increased confidence after the first success and to accumulated ideas that were deferred from the first system and then added en masse to the second.

A week ago, I cooked up an elegant and quite delicious dinner for five, that I wrote up as Easy Cooking. I did my shopping two days ahead. The evening before, I baked a cake, marinated the chicken, and made a yogurt/cucumber/mint salad. The day of the dinner, I started at noon, making five more dishes, all things I had done previously, so no surprises. The chicken was to be roasted just in time, and everything else could be made ahead and served at room-temp. It was so easy I had everything prepped by 4, leaving only the roasting and applying some salad dressing and garnishes.

I'm not normally that cautious, but I knew I had limited time the day before, that the dinner I planned would make the impression I wanted, and I wouldn't be worn out and unsociable at dinner. Besides, I was already planning my birthday dinner ("second system") for a week later. I would have all week to game out the menu and shop, and all of the day before to prep, in addition to my 6 hour window the day of. My birthday dinners — the tradition goes back to the mid-1990s, although not quite uninterrupted — tend to be extravagant ventures into exotic cuisines with anywhere from 10-20 dishes served to 8-10 guests (about all we can squeeze into our small dining room). While I'm pretty familiar with Italian, there would be some new adventures, and lots of opportunities for Murphy's Laws: "Nothing is as easy as it looks. Everything takes longer than you think. Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. . . ."

I started thinking about this a month or two in advance, not least because the only things I've had much success at doing this year has been the occasional fancy dinner. I've cooked a fair amount of Italian over the years, but never for birthday, so it's an option I've considered for years and felt overdue. Plus, there were two specific things I had in mind:

1. One dish I've made 3-5 times is a veal scaloppine with capers and cream, but it's been at least a decade since I've been able to buy veal locally, so I splurged and ordered it frozen.

2. I've never made fresh pasta, but my nephew does and swears by it, so I wanted give it a try. For this, I ordered some tools: a Gvode electric pasta roller/cutter, a ravioli press, and a drying rack.

The pasta was the one thing I was seriously worried about. I figured I needed a prototype run mid-week, but never found the time. So I decided to do it on Saturday, when worst case it would push me out past midnight, then store it, and boil and sauce it just before service. (Well, the super worst case was I would have to throw it away, which is why I decided also to make potatoes as a backup plan.) It was a mess, and did push me past midnight, but finally looked OK.

Still, much to do on Sunday. I prepped like crazy, and cut way back on the antipasti, reducing it to a few things served with dinner, instead of as a proper pre-dinner welcome. I optimistically put the potatoes in the oven in time to serve at 6, but when the guests started arriving, I still had a half-dozen dishes to finish. I put some guests to work minding several of them. It was fairly short work after that, but I had lost control of the process.

Below is a plate picture. Notes on the dishes follow.

I mostly drew on Marcella Hazan's Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, with a couple recipes from Julia Della Croce's The Classic Italian Cookbook (potatoes, langostinos) and Laura Vitale's At My Italian Table (zucchini, mushrooms, torte). The tiramisu is from The King Arthur Baking Company's All-Purpose Baker's Companion, and the garum/escalivada is from Penelope Casas' Delicioso. The ravioli fillings were found online.

Crostini bianchi: I had planned on serving a whole antipasto platter, with toasted bread slices, bruschetta and other spreads (some bought), canteloupe/melon with prosciutto, mozzarella with tomatoes and basil, various meats (salami, soppressata, bresaola, capocollo), various cheeses, olives, etc., but that didn't happen. What I did manage was to cut up a ciabatta baguette, brush it with olive oil and garlic, and toast the slices. The "bianchi" spread was ricotta and anchovies. I also made garum (a tapenade) and escalivada (eggplant/pepper/tomato spread) — Spanish recipes, but in character, after I decided not to do anything else with the eggplant. (I had considered caponata or parmesan).

Veal scaloppine with ham, anchovies, capers, and grappa: My main dish. I had to order three one-pound packages. I used two. As they were cut pretty thin, I didn't take the time to beat on them. I floured and fried them, and put them aside. I used a thick cut of prosciutto for the ham, and warmed it with butter, anchovies, and capers on the side. I used the grappa to deglaze the skillet, then added the ham combination and heavy cream, and finally returned the veal to the dish. It came out a little tougher than I expected; not sure whether that was the meat or me overcooking it. While it took some effort to cut it with a fork, no one asked for a knife.

Potatoes al forno: Yukon golds, boiled 30 minutes, then sliced and arranged in a baking pan in two layers, each topped with butter, thinned sour cream, mozzarella, and parmesan, then flooded with milk. First time I tried this particular recipe. Not as good as the Apulian style I often make, or the French dauphinois.

Langostinos al forno: Recipe for shrimp, but I bought two bags of langostinos at Trader Joe's, thinking they would work. Put in a baking dish with olive oil, lots of garlic, parsley and lemon juice, then baked 10 minutes, right after the potatoes. I misread a recipe and also included some sage, not that it hurt. I'm pretty sure shrimp would have been just as good.

Fresh noodles with carbonara: I consulted multiple recipes, plus my nephew, on the pasta, and got lots of varying information, so I really needed to experiment, but didn't. My first batch of dough was a mess, but eventually I got something possibly usable. I wrapped it up and put it aside, then attempted a second batch with three eggs and more flour, but mixing it was much worse. Eventually, I found some combination of flour and egg (and milk, which I was advised to add for a ravioli dough) that seemed remotely plausible, so I decided to go straight to the machine. When I rolled out a large enough sheet, I laid it on the template, pressed down to indent, filled the depressions, and laid a second sheet on top. When I cut them free, I had my first dozen ravioli. I made several more batches, before returning to the first batch of dough to make noodles. It had softened considerably, and cut into very thin noodles. I made another batch, and also cut up scraps left from the ravioli batches. I could hang some of them on the rack. Others just fell in clumps, and some were very hard to feed into the machine. At one point, I went back to the manual, where they suggested that I dust fresh noodles with semolina to keep them from sticking, so I did that. I finally collected them in a bowl, and refrigerated them. They mostly disentangled when they hit the water. I had little sense of how much pasta I had made, so I made a single recipe of carbonara: 2 eggs, ½-cup each parmesan and romano. I should have doubled that, but once it was mixed and obvious, it was too late to fix. I fried some guanciale; again, I should have fried twice as much. I also parboiled some fresh shelled peas, but undercooked them. (I'm used to frozen peas, which wouldn't have been a problem.) They approximated the idea, but were far from ideal.

Ravioli: I made two fillings: one with lobster, crab, ricotta, mascarpone, a shallot, some wine; the other with smoked salmon, ricotta, and mascarpone (recipe just called for ricotta, but I had remembered mascarpone, and figured that was a fair substitute). I made the dough along with the noodles, above. I wound up with 60 ravioli (30 of each). I only noticed one that had a leak, but after I put them in the refrigerator, with layers separated by wax paper, some were still sticky and tore open. I delegated the boiling, so didn't pay them much attention. I had made a butter-sage sauce to put them in when they were cooked. But I didn't make nearly enough, or perhaps should have made a completely different sauce. The fillings were very good, and the ravioli were decently cooked. I had some leftover filling (mostly salmon), so made that available to spread on the crostini.

Zucchini a scapece: Not on my plan, but I had bought 3 zucchini for no particular reason. (I would like to have shredded, battered, and fried them, but there was no way I could have fit that into my schedule.) Then I saw this recipe, which could be done early, and served room-temp. I cut them into thin rounds, drizzled some olive oil, and roasted them 20 minutes at 475°F. Then scraped them into a bowl, with garlic, salt, sherry vinegar, and dried mint (recipe called for fresh). They were a delicious side dish, but not a very big one.

Frizzled mushrooms: I had three packages of shiitake mushrooms. I stemmed them, and stir-fried them in olive oil and butter, with garlic, parsley, salt, and pepper. Or so I think: this was prepped early, but done at the last minute, with a guest stirring, and me paying scant attention.

Green beans with pancetta and parmesan: I boiled the beans early, then finished this at the very end. I had some extra prosciutto cut (from the veal recipe) so included it.

Panzanella: I soaked red onion, then added it to chopped yellow bell pepper and cucumber. I cut some corners with the tomatoes, putting them in boiling water to peel them instead of using the peeler, and I ran one through the mini-chopper to puree instead of using the food mill (I have one, but don't like it.) I cut slices off a loaf of Italian bread, toasted them, then mixed them with the pureed tomato. I chopped the other two tomatoes, and eventually mixed them all together, with a little olive oil.

For dessert, I had multiple options:

Tiramisu: I follow the King Arthur recipe, which starts with a jelly roll sponge cake instead of the usual ladyfingers. I doubled the espresso (made from instant), and added a bit of Tia Maria. I cut the cake up into finger-sized slices, brushed them with the espresso mixture, and topped them off with a mix of mascarpone, heavy cream, and powdered sugar. I had to divide them into two containers. Later I garnished them with grated semisweet chocolate.

Torta Caprese: A flourless chocolate cake, made with almond flour, and topped with sifted powdered sugar.

Macedonia: Mixed fruit in orange and lemon juice: apple, pear, peach, banana, mango, pineapple, dates, mixed berries. I'm not much for fruit, so probably shouldn't have bothered, but once I did the shopping, I figured use it or lose it.

I was also very tempted by a Hazlenut semifreddo recipe: a frozen custard laced with liquor (they call for a hazlenut liqueur, but I figured I could substitute amaretto) and mixed with hazlenut praline. It looked like a lot of work with long wait times (chilling, then freezing the custard, plus whatever it took to make the praline), so as a plan B, I bought four quarts of various ice cream flavors (including a lemon sorbet). In the end, they were not only unnecessary but most were untouched.

I have some excess shopping. If we can arrange a leftovers dinner, I may find a use for some of it, but I've already thrown some out. We can certainly make a lot more antipasto. I considered another dozen dishes, many of which I could make from the freezer. (I have another pound of veal left, plus lots of shrimp and fish.) I may try rescuing the noodles and ravioli in another sauce.

Despite all my nitpicking, this was pretty good eating. And even though the kitchen was a mess at 6, we managed to get it all on the table by 7. I cleaned much of it up that night, and the rest the next day. I feel pretty good about the work, and I didn't break down in pain (as has happened on occasion). This may be the end of the mega-dinners, but it would be nice to have more smaller ones, like the previous week. One of my inspirations for cooking was a cousin who explained that it's the one thing that will always give you a sense of accomplishment, and I might add usefulness. That's more than I can claim for my stalled essays on Israel and Trump, or even my weekly grind of Music Weeks.

By the way, here's a picture of the uncooked pasta:

It will be a while before I attempt this again, and preferably on nothing like the same scale. I still need to figure out the mix ratios, how to work the dough, what the right moistness is, how long to let it rest, how to dry it or keep it from drying out, and how to match the dough and sauce quantities. Maybe my nephew will come through and give me pointers?

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My series of birthday dinners started some thirty years ago, in 1995 or 1996 I reckon: I recall two (maybe three) in Boston, then one in New Jersey, before we moved to Wichita (in my case back) in 1999. After I left Contex, I occasionally had lunch dates with a couple of my friends there, and I wanted to invite them over and show off some of my Chinese. I went crazy and wound up serving some 15-20 dishes. Then I moved on to Indian, which I did once in Boston, then again in New Jersey, where I planned two dinners, one for friends from New York, then a second one for some work colleagues in NJ — which turned out to be a bust.

I haven't done this every year. We ate at my brother's in 1999, and I don't recall what happened in 2000, or 2001 (which was about when I got back from 9/11 delays in New York). But in due course, I revived the practice, aside from one year when Jerry Stewart and Connie Bonfy were in Salina, so we drove up and they took us to Brookville Hotel for legendary fried chicken. The scheme has almost always been to pick a national cuisine, either one I had some practice in — I started developing some skills in Indian and Chinese in the 1980s, after I moved from New York City and found New Jersey somewhat lacking. But there was one year when I was hard-pressed for ideas, and Jerry suggested just doing hamburgers. I followed that up with a soul food theme, not far from my mother's Arkansas repertoire.

For the 2020 pandemic, I made a mix of Turkish and Moroccan, and served it outside and socially distanced. I had done both of them before, separately, as well as many others, ranging from Brazilian (really just feijoada) to much more ambitious spreads of Thai, Korean, and French. I figured I was overdue for Italian. In some cases, I had a fairly decent idea of what I was looking for. In others, I was exploring new territory (e.g., Burmese, where my only direct experience was a remarkable curry made with pickled mango). I've cooked a lot of Italian over the years, but never on my birthday.

I had two thoughts going into this: one of the best things I've ever made was a veal scaloppine with capers and cream, but I haven't been able to find veal locally for at least a decade; the other is fresh pasta. I'd never made it, but my nephew has, and claimed it was easy or at least well worth the effort. Both required planning and investment. I ordered the veal from Sal & Anthony's in Brooklyn, with a 3-pound minimum shipment. For the pasta, I ordered a Gvode electric pasta roller/cutter, a drying rack, and a ravioli mold/press. This was going to be an expensive dinner. It was also going to be a lot of work, and trouble.

Last week, I bragged about a dinner I made as Easy Cooking. I made six dishes, plus a cake for dessert. I had it so well organized that I had little to do two hours before service except to pop the chicken into the oven. I knew the birthday dinner was going to be more ambitious, time-consuming, and difficult, but didn't know, and couldn't imagine, how much more. In addition to the advance orders, I made several shopping trips, with the main one on Friday, stopping at Yoder, Trader Joe, Dillons, and Whole Foods. I never settled on an exact menu, so I bought a lot of things on spec, in case I came up with a use for them. On Saturday, I started cooking at noon, and worked past midnight. On Sunday, I started just before noon, aiming to serve when guests arrived around 6. I had a lot still unfinished by then, and got several guests to help.

By the time dinner was served, I was reminded of second-system syndrome: the observation by Fred Brooks on how designers of successful first projects can fail on their second project. The idea here is that one tends to be extra careful the first time out, but after success, one can get overconfident and and too ambitious, allowing failures to compound. My "easy cooking" dinner was a nice mix of familiar dishes I knew exactly how to do. The birthday dinner, on the other hand, was intentionally more complex, with several unknowns, so more chances to screw up. The end wasn't anywhere near a disaster, but there were some issues.