Two Dinners

Yesterday was a great day for eating.  I speak for myself and a few others too.  

See, yesterday was a big day for my brother Joel and sister-in-law Christy.  At least one month prior, they had made reservations to Per Se, Thomas Keller's restaurant in the Time Warner Center in Manhattan's Columbus Circle.  Now I enjoy my food, but my tastes are not discerning as Joel & Christy's.  I first learned of Thomas Keller and his flagship The French Laundry when I was in Napa a few years ago.  In the culinary world, Thomas Keller has achieved a status of immortality.  Both of his places are on Anthony Bourdain's list of places to eat before you die.  (There's a video of Bourdain's visit to The French Laundry.  A priceless moment occurs when Keller provides a customized dessert for Bourdain, involving crushed cigarettes to feed Bourdain's cigarette addiction.  Bourdain collapses in a fit of laughter and admittedly defeated admits the dessert is fantastic.)  Joel took me to Per Se a few years back; the previous night's dinner menu is available to the public for taking.  A Per Se dinner consists of about fifteen courses, focusing on enough-sized portions of the highest quality food, in a room overseeing the southwest corner of Central Park.  I distinctly remember trying to read the menu at Per Se and it reminded me of the first time I picked up a New England Journal of Medicine as a first-year medical student: What is this alien language I'm reading?!  Truth be told, Joel & Christy often frequent the place to grab menus and learn the language.  In a way only my brother does, dishes with which he's unfamiliar, he will find elsewhere in Manhattan, so he has a barometer for them and further expand his taste vocabulary.  

Needless to say, intense preparation characterized the weeks prior to this dinner.  Yesterday, I actually felt true anxiety over a meal I wasn't even having!  It was the same kind of anxiety that characterizes my fear of public speaking.  But it turns out Joel & Christy were feeling the same way.  Can anyone remember (outside of a stomach virus) the last time there were actually nervous about a meal (and not the people involved, just the meal) they were about to have?  I've never experienced that.  I was updated when Christy changed into a dinner dress.  I received a text when Joel realized he was wearing dark socks for the first time since the wedding.  The nervous excitement was palpable nearly a thousand miles away for me in Atlanta. I received a text when they first entered Per Se.  Never had I been so excited to receive a dinner play-by-play!  But when it's a once in a lifetime experience, you want to be in on the details!  I received a first picture of what looked like salmon scoops on ice cream cones.  I received a second picture of the two butters and six salts accompanying the broiche and foie gras.  Then the texts and pictures stopped coming.  And I understood completely.  Joel & Christy were undergoing a full sensory assault, rendering communication to the outside world useless.  I wasn't going to interrupt the experience.  Just eagerly await the details.  It's the morning after and I still eagerly await the details.  

While this was all happening, I was having a dinner of my own.  My friend Becca (a white girl born and raised in the Philippines) invited me (a Filipino boy born and raised in the States) over to have Filipino food.  Though in my mind, I wanted to have said, "Sure, I'll come over," it probably came out as "Yippee!  Filipino food!  Craving it!  Yummy!"  I came over.  Salad was being prepared.  Tinola was awaiting.  Chicken adobo was awaiting.  Becca had told me that she found lumpia wrappers and was eager to make lumpia.  And me too!  I was taught the technique once and was soon churning out a mass of lumpia.  I was salivating with each wrapped lumpia.  While we were preparing dinner, she told me of a new Filipino bakery/restaurant that just opened on Buford Highway.  She and several of her friends went the night before and told me things I wanted to hear: it was delicious, it was really good, and it was really busy.  Finally, the food was served: a fresh fruit salad with creamy vinaigrette, tinola, white rice, lumpia, and chicken adobo.  My craving was absolutely satisfied.  I hadn't had Filipino food since December, when Mila fed me daily at Pike Place in Seattle for lunch.  I had a blast catching up with Becca and her roommate.  At the same time, though, I was transported back to a distant happy memory of eating dinner with my family and my Grandma back on Long Island.  The dishes, the company, the food.  I stuffed myself with lumpia.  I stuffed myself with rice and soy sauce.  I stuffed myself with three full drumsticks of chicken adobo.  I didn't even get to the tinola.  We knew it was a great meal; we were rendered incapable of conversation and just dreamed of siesta.  I happily took home leftovers from a fantastic home-cooked Filipino meal.  For the first time I would have Filipino food for leftovers!  And plus, I had a goal for the next day: try this new Filipino restaurant!

I was telling one of my bosses at work that most of the programs I DVR tend to be related to food.  I've realized that food is more than just satisfying an appetite.  Or at least, that's what it should be.  In our culture nowadays, it has moved away from its cultural role of bringing together friends and family.  Breakfast and lunch in particular tend to be squeezed into our days, if they're lucky enough not to be omitted in the first place.  We feed ourselves conveniently and quickly with fast-food.  We often eat alone at work so we can move along with our tasks and duties.  Sometimes we eat alone at home because we're so tired from our tasks and duties.  Food, for me, is a game-changer.  When I have bad days, I think about the next meals because a good meal can make anything better.  I love food for what it is.  But ideally, others should be there to enjoy it with you. 

Perhaps that's why yesterday was a great day for eating.  My brother and I had tremendously different dinner experiences but were equally memorable.  A memorable meal can be a Valentine's Day dinner with your wife prepared by a master chef whose attention to detail can make you forget your view of the Manhattan skyline.  A memorable meal can be a home-cooked meal with good friends and good conversation, which not only answers a simple craving, but also ties you back to your heritage and distant happy memories of your childhood.