Stories

I'm a rabid fan of elegant epicurean eateries and eating en masse with my hedonistic friends.  Seen at Spago and Drago in L.A., and most often at Orso in New York, lately, due to the economy, we've gone from a monthly to an every two monthly meet up.  

I love these diversions from the routine cuisine of my hood. I revel in the whole fine restaurant ritual: of dressing up in a decades old outfit and making it look like fresh kill with a couple baubles; entering, precariously poised on high heeled boots meant for posing, trying not to teeter as I thrust myself past the other tables following the maitre d' to our huge table; sitting and reacquainting with coteries of two, then three, then more friends in their staggered arrivals.  Then I love the gasping over the menu, watching the waiter recite the specials without salivating, negotiating our deals over who will order what meals and how we'll trade off tastings.  

The flatware, the aromas, our blatant voyeurism watching others eat at adjoining tables, and they show off their choices with lip-smacking 'mmm's,' add to the celebration.  In a later lull, I'll cogitate on memorable meals with poignant nostalgia for a special flavor, feeling, time and the fraternity in sharing it, seasoned with the joy of not cooking or cleaning up.

There are as many ‘personal chefs’ in Palm Beach as there are swimming pools.  I see them in their white chef coats and Mario Batali crocs at Publix Super Market chatting each other up as they fondle the passion fruit.  I have had to resist the urge to run up to them and say, “I personally know Wolfgang Puck … personally!”

Palm Beach residents love to dine together.  Restaurants flourish, but elegant dinner parties reign! They always have.

So, what does one do in a town where an intimate sit down dinner is for forty people? If one is a Texas DNA challenged, Left Coast Malibubi, “Y’all come on over and I’ll cook up something” works. During the season of Madoff, a small home cooked dinner - while not the rage – does earn a few sophisticated nods of approval. Besides, it gives me a certain pleasure to psychically push aside the personal chefs at Publix so that I too can fondle the passion fruit with the same sense of authority!

Trying to find something different that is relatively easy to do at the last minute and actually tastes good is the goal.  I have gone through the various BBQ and Mexican dinner menus, all of which were adored by my if-I-see-one-more-beef-tornado-on-my-plate-I-will-scream friends. And, I do relish their fawning looks of gratitude over the unexpected but delicious déclassé fare!

Saturday morning, I was headed downtown for a walk with my dogs.   On the corner of West End and 116^th street, we passed a couple in the midst of a tiff.  She was crying and he was saying “I want to say something that will make you feel better!”  She replied “Then say different stuff!!!”  I chuckled and slowed the dogs down to catch more of their fight- eager for a little distraction from my walk.  The fight wasn’t explosive though, it was just a steam blowing off-er.  I slipped my earbuds back in and trudged onward.

Two blocks later, another couple was fighting.  Actually, it was more of a mutual whine than a fight really.  This time, there was something that needed to be picked up at the store for their baby (that was anxiously cooing from the sling around dad’s neck) and neither wanted to do it because there was other stuff that needed to be done.  Again, there was sighing, head shaking and clenched fists from both contenders, but nothing that entertaining.

We crossed into the park and stopped suddenly when we hit yet another couple deep in conflict.  He was bellowing about dirty laundry and she was yarping about laundromat quarters.  I honestly thought I was on some hidden camera show or something.  Three couples in less than 10 blocks?  Was this sunny day in May a secret relationship Armageddon?  I wiped the pond of sweat from my upper lip and thought, “Huh… maybe”.

No story, memoir, recipe or review here…just a list.  My food list.  There are certainly a few people who won’t understand this, like those who don’t wake up thinking about what they’re going to eat that day or the unfortunate man I once met who had no sense of taste or smell.  But if you’re reading One for the Table, you’re undoubtedly a foodie, bon vivant, epicure, connoisseur, gastronome, gourmet, gourmand, grazer or nosher – and you will understand.


First food I ever loved:
Gerber baby butternut squash

Favorite dishes my mother used to make:
Breaded veal cutlets
Spaghetti with her homemade meat sauce
Fry beef sandwiches (the kosher answer to a BLT)
Mac and cheese (yup, made with Velveeta)

Food I disliked as a kid and love as an adult:
Beets

Food I loved as a kid and dislike as an adult:
Lamb

Two foods I love that I wish I could live without…but can’t:
Cheese & Bread