The Tapestry of Our Lives
What a Good Lamb Recipe Will do for Friendship
A Holiday Dinner - and Then Some
December 8, 2007
A friend invited me over for our group's yearly Hanukkah dinner. We are not especially religious but Tamar is Israeli. Tamar should have told us she was too busy but each year we look forward to that time together so she indulged us when she should have been getting to bed early to work the following day. Recently she had to take a job in a big city an hour away. Instead of sending us packing, she generously made us another special Hanukkah dinner. Our feast started with traditional Latke's with apple sauce and sour cream, moved onto Tamar's special (and favorite) Latke's made with Indian spices and then onto the lamb. This was no ordinary lamb, it was a recipe from a Bon Appetit magazine recklessly left out in plain sight at Paula's home just the weekend earlier. Once we found the holiday recipes in the magazine we pounced on this one. It was then discussed at length by Paula, myself, and Tamar. When Tamar finally secured the actual recipe she picked up the necessary ingredients and took it to her kitchen where her magic started to unfold.
She then made the exotic red grape and port wine sauce which would simmer with rosemary and garlic. Someone said it might be Greek, and indeed it called up the whole world of ancient caravans from Greece to Turkey, and the entire area, with the myriad of fresh meats and spices. She topped this with an exquisite lamb sausage crust that was crunchy and complimented the other tastes, and textures. Between each bite, the worries of the day, the rising gas prices, reports of bad weather coming, questions about where our romantic judgment went wrong, dissolved between bites of our feast and sips of a Spanish red wine. Tamar's lamb was delicious and her culinary efforts hit epicurean high notes worthy of a symphony.
Under the golden light that illuminated her dining table, with the scents of the Latke's, lamb and wine wafting over the room, the three of us discussed our financial concerns, our family crises, our unworthy and worthy boyfriends and men we'd like to find - younger men, men our age who are still hot, men who are older and hot, sophisticated men, men with enough depth to appreciate an older woman, men who are exciting, men appropriately worshipful of our wisdom and spirit, hard bodied men with washboard abs - we discussed these men between bites of lamb, forks full of Latkes, drinks of wine. Between each exquisite bite, the incidents of the day became a vague memory that paled against the luscious food and spirited company. Our concerns and worries were left behind, somewhere in the cold winter night under the dark of the moon, far away from where we shared our friendship, warm and comfy in this cozy room which enveloped us like a hug. Against this backdrop and under Tamar's Toulouse Lautrec painting of Parisians dancing at a nightclub, it all assumed a far less important place in the world.
Time is Luck
Since my friends are often in other cities during the week, time spent together is even more precious. It reminded me of that saying in the latest Miami Vice movie with the fascinating Chinese actress Li Gong and Ireland's answer to every woman's fantasy, Colin Farrell.
Time is Luck.
I suspect it is really an old Chinese saying, but since I don't speak or write Chinese, it's hard to Google it on the web to find out. In any case, I resonate to the meaning. We are a small group of friends who have helped each other endure the slings and arrows of what Hamlet called outrageous fortune. We have gone through broken love relationships when we couldn't resist the wrong men, or when the right men told us they wanted "space", money worries as we saw the gas prices go up past $3.00 and had to commute an hour away to a new job, family disasters when parents and loved ones had health or emotional problems, and still sitting around Tamar's table, with good wine and great food and friends seems to make the world's difficulties recede just for that night. Like American poet Robert Frost said in a poem, "that has made all the difference."
