Food & Friends

Sometimes you have to lose something to gain something. In my case, I've gained a new friend who is not only fun to spend time with, but who is very thoughtful when a thought means just about everything. To wit, last night's lobster dinner. Two lb. lobsters, steamers, fresh corn on the cob, delivered to my door. Of course, she had to leave when I put them in the pot so she couldn't hear the screaming (I swear, they didn't scream, though I did a little) at which point she walked to a South African restaurant down the street and bought cole slaw to cleanse our palates.

We ate out on the back deck, not because it was a beautiful summer night, although it was, but primarily because there is no longer anywhere to eat in the house. To ease my misery, I was given this feast. Food is sacred. It heals many wounds. You can make someone very happy when you cook for them. I thought I learned that very late in life, but a friend of mine from 30 years ago said he remembers me being a good cook back then. Who knew? I thought I only made phony macaroni (Kraft macaroni and cheese) and hot dogs for the kids.

I did make a mean Chicken Cannelloni using a recipe I wrote down in bed one morning watching Julia Child make it. I remember the moment clearly: the bed, the dresser, the tv, the drool that ran down my chin when I saw her ladling the sauce over the rolled, stuffed, cooked chicken breast. It was the drool that made me leap for pad and pencil. I immediately bastardized the recipe because I don't eat mushrooms, and in the past year have updated it to be a little fresher. But it still can bring a crowd to their knees. Back then you had to de-bone the chicken breast yourself, a task I wasn't too fond of. Herbs came only out of a jar-- unless you lived on a farm and it was the right season--so I don't think Julia would be upset with my changes.

So I've gained a friend and a few pounds. Just proof that life always finds a way to keep you moving forward and satisfied, at least for a moment, or a meal.