things you’ll need: somewhere to eat, a stool, and a vague idea of what you want.
I’m out of town for the next couple of weeks but I’ll be back soon.
Chapter 240
Pick a regular spot or somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. Don’t be in a hurry. Bring a book or a friend. Go before everyone else gets there or after most of them have left. After a cursory inspection of the menu, ask the bartender if there is something you must try but start with a drink. Talk to them about what you like. Use words like funky, barnyard, herbaceous, or light and easy. If you don’t drink alcohol, ask about shrubs, mocktails, and loose-leaf teas. Let them make something just for you or order what you know but will never make at home.
Enjoy a little people-watching, the clamoring sounds of cocktail shakers and bus tubs, the exuberant noise of people deep in their conversational joy. Remember when these rooms terrified you, when you could barely watch TV shows because the people on the screen weren’t washing their hands and stood too close together, when you were indistinguishable from the couch and barely ordered pizza without a decontamination plan. Acknowledge the little voice inside your head that still points out the danger everywhere.
If you brought a friend, share everything. Start with something small, even better if it’s something you’ve never had. When you take your first bite, close your eyes. Let it surprise you. Decide how you’d remake it or marvel at the mystery of its conception. Taste each component on its own then construct a perfect bite.
Order something else, maybe several things, maybe fill the bar top with a delicious tetris of plates. Save your favorite bites for last. Ask questions. Find yourself deep in connection with your friend, the food, the stranger next to you, the tattooed person taking your order who feels as passionately as you do about amaro or bread or whatever you happened to find in common.
Tip well and say thank you because you truly feel grateful.
I so want to do this!