Okay, last night, I took a representative sample of Nebraska opinion.
Well, two other people and myself makes only three, perhaps not quite a representative sample, but one takes what one can get.
Three Nebraskans, two male, one female, two born and raised in Nebraska, one born elsewhere but moved to Nebraska; all with 4+ years college education; all widely traveled and at least moderately well-dined.
We unanimously think this notion that cooks and chefs should be compelled to perform in front of an audience is really bad taste, and even grotesque.
Cooks and chefs are hired (or "hired," in the sense that a restaurant patron is hiring them to produce something for the patron) to create and cook. That is all they should be required to do; create and cook.
None of the three of us have never watched cooks and chefs work; all three of us figure it's just best to let the cooks and chefs work in peace-and-quiet, out of sight, as they probably really wish to do.
All three of us have probably been in restaurants with "open kitchens," but because of our innate decency and courtesy, we didn't pay attention. After all, we were in a restaurant to dine, not to watch cooks and chefs amuse us.
Late at night, I read what Sigmund Freud had to say about the matter; it's not pretty. If the sparkling husband primitive in real life really gets jollies out of watching cooks and chefs "perform" for him, there are startling similarities between the fantasies of Heinrich Himmler, and the fantasies of the sparkling husband primitive.
If the sparkling husband primitive in real life really gets jollies out of watching cooks and chefs "perform" for him, the sparkling husband primitive in real life is an utter depravity, disgusting beyond articulation; i.e., he's really one sick ****.
Thus sayeth Sigmund Freud, in his analysis of the master-slave, master-servant, relationship; also in the sinfulness and lust of the subconscious. Freud doesn't appear to enjoy much popularity and repute among Christians, but Freud did an excellent job defining original sin, the basest nature of man, in non-theological terms.
But I don't want to go there; it's really disgusting.
I did recall one place with an "open kitchen," the pool hall in the small town in the center of the Sandhills of Nebraska, where I spent my adolescence. It had a wide-open kitchen because the building had once been a bank, and this sort of kitchen was all the configuration of the architecture could accommodate.
This open kitchen was operated by "Tiny," a behemoth of an old gentleman (perhaps in his late 60s, early 70s, when I knew of him) who was just really fat. I dunno; surely more than 400 pounds, and he was surely no more than five and a half feet tall.
"Tiny" in his younger, slenderer, youth, had been a cook in one of the residences of Eleanor Roosevelt, but whether Hyde Park or New York City, I never knew. After she died in 1961 or 1962, "Tiny" headed west, and ended up at this pool hall in central Nebraska, where he spent the rest of his days.
"Tiny" had a pineapple-shaped head, and a button for a nose. The nose always intrigued me, as "Tiny" could make it bounce out, bounce in, bounce around, bounce sideways, bounce jiggly, bounce wobbly, as he chitchatted with customers.
Ostensibly--I have no way of knowing--"Tiny" had a high-pitched voice. I do know that "Tiny" actually squealed when smooched and caressed and tickled by good-looking young chicks and broads.
As I said, the kitchen was open, wide open, and customers could see "Tiny" doing his stuff. But "Tiny" was not putting on a show for their amusement, and everybody understood that. No one dared analyze and critique "Tiny"'s methods.
This was a polite, well-mannered, courteous town. If one thought "Tiny" was doing something wrong, one kept his mouth shut. If one thought "Tiny" was doing something right, one kept his mouth shut.
All anybody--including "Tiny"--cared about was whether or not the food was okay.
If the Immortal "Tiny" were still alive today, and if the sparkling husband primitive was watching him cook, for amusement, "Tiny" would undoubtedly send the sparkling husband primitive through the food-grinder, and then dump the whole thing down the commode.
And "Tiny" would be acquitted by a jury, because all men are entitled to defend their dignity and self-respect.
