The Forgotten Meal: July 22nd, 2009
Learning to cook isn’t just about the mechanics of roasting, sauteing, and chopping, but rather the entire experience, from finding the recipe to sitting down and eating the meal. Cooking is all about enjoyment. In the “Edible Memories” series, I will share with you some of my favorite cooking and dining moments – both the good and the ugly.They are what give me inspiration to go back to the kitchen every single day.
I cannot remember what I had for dinner a year ago today.
I remember walking home from the L stop in Brooklyn to my apartment in Greenpoint. I remember that it was hot out, a day the clouds of last summer had finally parted. I was on the phone with my Mom, complaining that I felt disgusting. I may not have showered that morning.
I remember that I spent the day making phone calls to Z in Australia, trying to wish him a happy birthday. I remember being so upset when his phone kept going to voicemail. He was in Sydney celebrating, and I was sure he’d had one too many cocktails. I left 3 voicemails. I remember that phone calls to Australia were $10 a minute.
I remember I was dreading getting to my apartment because I had to ferociously clean before Z’s best friend arrived. He had just flown in from Sydney after visiting Z for 10 days. I remember being mad he had spent time with Z so recently. I remember not wanting to hear stories of all the fun they had. I was jealous. It was still over a month until he was coming home.
I remember my Mom telling me to suck it up, go home, shower, and make myself look pretty. That I would feel better after doing that.
I remember I went to the liquor store instead.
Somewhere in here is when I must have eaten dinner.
I remember Z’s friend arriving and I tried to act happy. I offered him some wine. He refused. He wanted to go and play pool. I was pretty pissed off with him. I said we had to wait for my roommate. He called her and told her to meet us at the bar. I was now even more pissed off.
I remember walking to the bar, The Turkey’s Nest. Our favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Even though the pool table is slightly uneven.
I remember going up to order a drink. I remember someone putting their arms around me. I turned around to punch them.
It was Z.
I remember being glad I didn’t punch him. I regretted not taking my Mom’s advice about the making myself look pretty.
I remember just being so happy he was there, I kept asking him if he was staying.
I remember all of my friends walking in to the bar, clapping.
I kept asking him if he was staying.
Then, after an evening of fun and hugs and “Are you really here?!”s, I remember saying “Oh, its your birthday!”
One year later, Happy Birthday Z!
Thank you for giving me a surprise so wonderful, I forgot what I ate for dinner.