mo's chef quit today. i am not sure why.
this happened in the afternoon and by chance within the hour mo was taking a call from the man and woman i sat with for camel wrestling, and soon there were dinner plans, which here are no small matter.
today i spent the afternoon playing with mo's carbon dioxide laser trying to get the settings right for burning a graphic of an olive tree onto special edition black bottles for his family's line of premium olive oil. mo left to go to the butcher and when he came back we were late already. "let's go," he said.
so down we went from the shop, which is up the mountain, to the restaurant, which is below.
when we arrived, the table had already been set for ten and appetizers and cold tapas placed out. carrots with cream sauce, broccoli and brussel sprouts with onion, spinach, artichokes with rice, evil beets, zucchini and walnuts, eggplants and tomatos, all in shallow dishes with golden olive oil in the bottoms and herbs on top.
back in the kitchen i made mustard -- sugar, salt, eggs, vinegar, mustard powder, eyeballed, mixed and thickened. mo simmered wine and made tempura batter. i cut big leafy greens into strips.
we lit the grill and it smoked everywhere but at least the exhaust hoods behaved and we could clear the air before the guests arrived, which they did shortly. the mayor came too, and an envoy.
i spoke french but it was easy to keep slipping into english.
mo sent me to eat while he grilled steaks, which he brought over on big wood cutting boards. the mustard was too sweet though. it was like caramel sauce.
after dinner, pudding made from white cheese and honey, and turkish coffee. we drank, then everyone flipped their cups over in the saucers so the last drops of liquid could flow out, and each tried to divine his fortune in the pattern of coffee grounds left inside. mine had big chunks of residual gunk stuck which i tried to shake loose -- very western of me, they said. one cannot escape fate. they made me hand over my cup. the parisian woman looked at it. four irregular splotches. she told me there are four things now that weigh heavy on my mind.
"girls," i said standardly.
"things," she said, "i said four _things on your mind."
but maybe there is more truth to that exchange than i would care to admit.
dinner went late, after midnight. after desert and coffee was tea and nuts.
last thing, a commemorative photo. we all had to squish in to the frame. ugur squished in close to me. just as they were taking the picture i elbowed her in the ribs. and the motion reminded me: once i knew this girl and when we decided to be on the same team we decided we'd be birds together, and whenever we needed to be reminded of that we could salute each other with the left wing, with the elbow, just like i did to ugur in the ribs, only i did not expect to be reminded of that long-ago girl. and how i often did not appreciate her. then the guests got up to go, and everyone said goodbye and touched cheeks and we walked them out to their cars.
the violets are in now, in the flowerbeds in front of mo's restaurant. the air is moving and there is a wind from the south. tonight for the first time here i heard a grasshopper. there is a haiku that goes --
first cicada :
life is
cruel cruel cruel
