I'm a tad late on this prompt, I realize, but I've been busy. So there.
As most people know, food is very important to me. I love eating. I love all of the different, unique flavors that can be created from, say, the way you cook meat to the variety of spices that can meld a dish together. I love eating so much that I obviously love cooking. Baking is my favorite, probably because I have like ten sweet teeth. ("Oh, so you're ordering it for your tooth?" - Jim G.) But I also love standing in front of the stove, throwing shit into a pan, and seeing what comes out. This is a product of sitting on a bar stool at home and watching my mom or dad in the kitchen. Because I don't have as much experience has either of my parents, who are both wonderful cooks, I usually get something that is edible, sure, but kind of gross. I never try new things on other people unless I have a recipe to follow. I can make damn near anything turn out from a recipe, but when I'm winging it, well, that's a different story.
Accordingly, I could write about so many food experiences here. I could write about how for one summer of my life I ate sushi every day. I could write about the time I went (back) to Spain in high school, and, after our united and incessant whining about ham and cheese sandwiches, my classmates and I sat down at a long banquet table to giant pans of paella, one of my favorite dishes. I could write about how much I love munching on popomat and sipping glasses of Huck with Toria while watching The Office. But I'm not going to write about any of those things. Because food isn't just about eating to me. It's about connecting, sharing, and loving. After all, what good is it to cook a four course meal if you're the only one who's going to enjoy it (and then have to clean up afterward)?
Therefore, I am going to write about a mediocre meal I had a week and a half ago. It was a tuna salad sandwich and french fries. To be honest, I was so hungry by the time I got to the restaurant that my tummy had shrunk to fit just half the sandwich and about ten fries. I took the rest home and left it in the fridge to get thrown away. (Honestly, not my original intention. But that is what ended up happening, much to my dismay.) What made this particular meal so wonderful wasn't the food. Because it's never really about the food for me. It's about the experience. And this experience was lovely.
I was at the Village Pub in Magnolia with Tony and the majority of his family: mom, dad, stepmom, and sister. It was the night before he left for Korea. It was one of the last times I would get to sit next to him, touch his arm, and smack a kiss on his cheek for many months to come. And not only did I get to enjoy this meal with him, but also with his family who, over the course of the past two years, now occupy a specialized spot inside my heart.
I've never been so accepted into a family as I have with Tony's. Maybe I've never wanted to be. But they are so kind to me I sometimes wonder, "What have I done to deserve this?" Every single one of them -- Paulette, Sue, Zach, Jenny -- said to me that I have to visit even while Tony is in Korea. Well, Jenny said she'd have to come visit me in Pullman because she'd miss me. And she'd better, because I'll miss her too. I will miss them all.
At dinner, the conversation never halted, even when we finally got our food. Jenny and I quoted Sex and the City unabatedly, she pausing only occasionally to toss a relevant Flight of the Conchords quote into the conversation. It's nice to find someone else who is as on top of SATC as Miranda. The evening's laughter and teasing and kind words frolicked around the table between bites, all six of us playing with everyone else. I didn't feel like an outsider, someone sitting at a table with a family. I felt like I belonged there, like I was wanted, and that is one of the most precious feelings a girl can hope to experience when in the presence of her boyfriend's family. Even though the food was there less to be outstanding and more to satiate empty tummies, this meal was proof that people can be brought together with food. We were celebrating Tony's departure and enjoying the time we had with him before he was gone, and I was invited to share in the experience.
And so, although this is nowhere near the story of the best meal I've ever eaten -- because I've eaten so many amazing meals in so many different states and countries -- it's the story of the best meal, as of right now, that I have had the pleasure of sitting in on. Because, like I said, what's a good meal without good company?
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