The Tasting Party

Tomorrow night, my wife and I are having friends over for a little gathering. Basically, I try out new recipes on friends, cooking most of the dishes while we all chat. This is the third one of these I’ve done. I started doing them last year and they provide a number of benefits.

First, it’s an opportunity to get together with some of the few people that I’ve found here in Dinkytown whose company I really enjoy. Second, it gives me the opportunity to work with new methods and flavors in the kitchen. Third, it gives me a chance to serve. Not show off but serve. Of course, the showing off part is always there but recognizing it and releasing it is part of the work.

During these parties I act as chef and waiter. While the guests chat at the table, I’m working on a dish. When one is ready, I bring it to the table, explain what it is and serve. Then it’s back to the stove top.

I try to make dishes that I can be relatively sure will be new to the guests. With the limited grocery resources here in town, that’s difficult but it’s also a big part of the challenge. The whole exercise  is very freeing, really.

So, what have I learned?

When I first did this, it was just something to do. A chance to liven things up for everyone. But once I discovered the therapeutic value, I began to better understand the notion of practice through work. The whole “sweeping the floor” thing.

Of course, once I can achieving the same exhilaration from actually sweeping the floor, then I will really have learned something.

Baby steps.

Euston, I want some chocolate.

So the vacation was great. And yes, I did pretty good with the mindfulness bit.

Until I got to Oxford Street.

Now, I’m a fool for the city in a very Foghatian sense. I was born and raised in a city. Moving to the sticks was brutal. Still is. Walking down a busy street at full speed really puts me in my element. But Oxford Street? Hmm. Let’s see, Oxford Street is…

Oxford Street is fucked up.

Fuh-uh-uh-uh-uh-ucked UP!

Too many tourists. Too many tourist shops. Too many hawkers. Even the pubs are hideously over commercialized. And that many people shouting gimme, gimme, gimme always manages to put me in a bad frame of mind.

So, I lost my cool. I wasn’t loud about it. It was more of a seething. I imagine that my face resembled that of the Hulk just before he snaps.

I ended up taking a break by getting acupuncture. Now I have a problem with needles so acupuncture as relaxation is just not me but I was having issues with my shoulder and the acupuncture place looked peaceful. And it was. And I didn’t feel the needles at all. Cupping on the other hand….

Anyway, back out into the street I went and I was slightly better. At least my shoulder didn’t hurt.

What I had said previously about new sights, sounds, smells and experiences – that was wonderful. I’m a foodie and have been since I had to learn to cook for myself as a child. London is a great place for food. Whether your want immaculately prepared roast beef, a creamy Korma or just some perfectly fried fish you can get it there.

My big surprise food-wise? Mark & Spencer’s Food Stores. They had one in the tube station near our hotel so the wife and I stopped there every night on our way home. Try to imagine if 7-11 served nothing but incredible food. I fell in love with these Swiss Roll/Ho-Ho like items that were made with better chocolate and came in various fruit flavors. And the cloudy apple soda. And the chocolate covered shortbread. And the coconut bars. THE COCONUT BARS!!!! I’d move into Euston Tube Station just to be near them.

I can always tell how much I like a place by how much I miss the food when I’m gone. I still long for food from home. Abalone from The Old Clam House. A big plate of Kuleto’s risotto. The scallopine with the tortellini from Little Henry’s. When we were in Paris, it was those waffles with Nutella. Or those mutant hot dogs on baguettes with Camembert. Or the curried cuttlefish from the Vietnamese place. Now I can add a coconut bar with a cloudy apple soda to my list.

And mushy peas. Yes, I finally learned to love those. Not the mint ones, though.

And so it appears that my practice fell without my realizing it. Sure, I was on a very even, happy keel – minus Oxford Street – but I lusted after and gave into my lust for food there. The middle path isn’t just handling bad times moderately. It’s handling the good times the same way.

Oh well. At least failure is tasty.