CULMINATION TABLE

 It’s 5:24am and I’m at JFK on New Year’s Day waiting for my flight back to Hawaii, but yesterday for Eve not long ago this brunch table I put together for dear friends (see photo: I rented an entire apartment in Brooklyn for the holidays with the requisite kitchen) was a culmination of sorts—  topped with peace, rejuvenations and amazing food. The menu was deliberate, a “classic libretto” from my books I knew well to play, they were expecting it, it was one of the best I did culinarily, and it was my pleasure to cook and be their chef de cuisine by affinity and for old times. 

Two days before my gathering I walked up several blocks to the Polish bakery in Greenpoint and ordered an apricot cheese loaf and paid with a big smile. I had sent my invitations previously a photo of that giddiness using my phone and cropped a text dialogue box to write the menu under it: (1) rack of lamb, marinated overnight in fresh sage, kalamata olives and pepper corns (with sides of garlic spaghettini and asparagus); (2) Septime-inspired winter salad created with fennels, fennel fronds, mixed greens, pomegranate seeds, pears, grapefruits, brown tomatoes and sunflower nuts (Septime is a restaurant in the 11th district in Paris); and last but most elegantly, (3) roasted chestnuts (I roasted them slowly in star anise and maple syrup, and the apartment smelled for hours like Christmas heaven — the chestnuts were surrogate to cheese charcuterie to complement the heretofore appetizer/constant nibble of delicious bright-tasting bing cherries I got at Eataly in the Flatiron district; I want both omnivores and vegans happy and satisfied at the culmination table). I cooked the lamb a la  carte, as they like it, one medium, one well done; New Yorkers come to parties always staggered late and stylish but will never compromise on the perfect timing of food deliverance.

It was hard to believe I would do this again after all these years cooking to the same set of folks that had been my circle family, and now living separate lives. It was like we owed that reunion to each other, for we would all be remiss spiritually to unlearn of the past which had been the pure reason why we were made friends in the first place. No one let anyone down that evening. Besides, we were no strangers to each other, and we were merriest that way as we fed our souls. (He stayed behind and helped me with the dishes after dinner. I packed some leftovers and the flowers for him I could not take home in a long distance flight. It was nice to see him again. To see him eat so well, like before.)

Three stars are in the sky,

a night, a night,

to see man, and hold him pleasantly.

 Now I’ve bundled up the grass,

There stars rise o’er the hill,

a night to meet,

a night to meet,

by luck, not by our will.

Now I’ve bound the thorns together,

Three stars above the door

have brought me to tie with such a lass

as never saw before.

                        — Confucius, 744-738 B.C