Fine Dining or a Good Meal

The World is Big Enough for Both

When I told one of my best friends that I had an incredible fine dining experience, she asked me what I had. I mentioned a piece of duck that I savored, and she asked whether there were mashed potatoes with it. My eyes closed in disbelief. I explained that there were little things next the piece but, of course, nothing like mashed potatoes. This was part of six courses and each was to be relished for its own. But, she insisted, she loved a meat with an accompaniment and a sauce.

I tried to explain. This was an experience with even a sorbet between the first dishes and the last two, something harkening back to a classic French way of allowing the diner to rest between a first and second series of courses. After all, each of the courses was accompanied by its own wine, each took time to relish. This was a more than two hour affair, an adventure into culinary creativity.

Well, she continued, do they have normal menus? Yes, I explained. This was the six course offering with its own special room. Ah, and you did you get to choose what you wanted, she went on. No, this was whatever the chef had thought of given the availability of the best ingredients in the area. After all, that was the specialness of the place. The vast majority of the ingredients came from surrounding localities.

Well, she continued, we can go and choose something from the menu and see.

That was when I understood. She was not looking for new discoveries for her palate, for time out to look at the beauty of a leaf or a little seed right next to a very small piece of fish with a dot of fruit flavor beside it and have that come into her mouth, meld into her tongue, and rise up into her nostrils, with just a lovely sip of white wine that seemed to be made just for the occasion.

She would not contemplate the simplicity of the wooden table or the dark bowl, the pause in time between the grains of the first dish and what followed. She wanted everything on the table, while I flowed with the rhythm of each seemingly simple offering in taste, venturing to let my senses go on inward explorations.

Oh, it isn’t that I do not enjoy what is put before me on a table. As I thought back to the culinary voyage of the day before, one I certainly was not likely to repeat for at least some months, I munched on a piece of cake brought in by someone celebrating an event. I appreciated its moistness but did mention that I wished an attempt had been made to use whole wheat instead of white flour.

I am a bit of food snob, I must admit. After all, I cook and experiment all the time, going as rarely to any fast food places, as I do to places of palate delight, the first as I come away feeling grumbles in my stomach, and the second as I frankly just cannot afford them. Besides, I love going to the few aisles that I run to in the different food stores and markets that meet my needs. Then I enjoy the textures and flavors of the dish I prepare for myself accompanied by an appropriate glass of wine.

My friend, I know, likes a good meal. I have seen her enjoy more than one of them. I am happy to see her doing that, just as I am happy looking at my self-prepared dish of the day and thinking back to my culinary adventure.

By the way, I did notice something that struck me immediately on my local food adventure. Those different grains that the chef used, I use them, too. That has been part of my latest experiments! Raise my glass to you, dear chef!