Have you ever looked at a cookbook and each page causes your mouth to water and food memories to flood your mind? I recently opened a copy of Bobby Flay’s new book Bobby Flay’s Burgers, Fries & Shakes. Every page is more enticing than the last and includes such wonders as a Caesar salad burger, a Oaxacan burger, Shoestring Onions and a Mocha Caramel Milkshake. And in that vein, I am going to follow in the inspired footsteps of those who have gone before cooking through such lofty tomes as Julia Child’s Mastering The Art of French Cooking or Thomas Keller’s The French Laundry cookbook and cook my way from cover to cover. I am sure the scale will be more manageable for me and hey, I think burger’s are the new black. Stay posted. You might even be invited to dinner.
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Hospitality Remembered
A few weeks ago I heard as the Discovery Center we we are the ‘front door’ of Wycliffe. We are the first human contact that people have when they enter the physical plant. I have been mulling that over since I heard it and considering what people expect and then what they actually get. It also took my mind to hospitality. This is something I have let my mind settle on various times through the years. It is a spiritual gift but actually difficult to put into practice. You have to put yourself out there. It’s possible rejection but it’s also potential and acceptance.
About 12 years ago I purchased my first condo. I was about 23 or 24 years old and at the time rather awestruck that someone would think me so responsible as to expect me to pay for something over the next THIRTY years. But for their own reasons they did and in some flash of insight I realized that God must have some purpose for it so I figured I would just use it the best I could. I had fairly recently really committed myself to living out my own faith and it seemed natural that I would have people in the college and career group come over to hang out.
That first invitation ended with melted placemats and black smoke. (Who knew that gas stoves have the broiler where the drawer should be?!) The second one, a new grill that took ALL DAY to assemble in my living room (that stupid ignition button never did work). By the third I was getting the hang of it and getting hooked on having people over.
I kept having visitors until I sold the place and moved into a loft downtown in a pre-mid life crisis. Soon after I regained equilibrium, purchased another condo and moved back to the suburbs.
It wasn’t long before I started inviting people over with gusto. It wasn’t unheard of to pack 25 new, old and would be friends into my condo. People on the floor, in the hall, in the kitchen and on the patio, weather permitting. If ever I met someone new at group I would immediately hustle to get everyone over for at least coffee and dessert if not a full blown extravaganza complete with food, coffees and questions. I wrote so many questions to help facilitate dinner conversation that for my wedding shower they asked all the attendees to write a question for me to use and bound it into a book. Sometimes peoples answers amaze and sometimes my own sparked lasting friendship.
And the food, ah the food. It varied from straight up knock off recipes from Macaroni Grill to ethnic extravaganzas culled from my growing library of culinary writings on everything from high end salt or cheese to Spain, India and other far flung glimmers of life. It involved stacked desserts of brownies assembled into veritable Pisas filled with berries, chocolate and whipped marscarpone. Coffees made from at least 8 different types of machines or contraptions over the years. It’s almost reminiscent of a high school football star in his glory days because I certainly cannot imagine doing such things today. Was it even real or was it a dream? Sometimes I even let other people bring something and often let them help with the dishes.
Life is certainly different now. I got married, moved a few thousand miles, changed jobs, churches and states. I’ve had more people from Colorado in my home than Floridians in the last year and I certainly haven’t seen the ‘southern hospitality’ that I expected but I am sure that it’s out there, somewhere. I guess it’s a challenge. Game on.
Food Philosophy
Blue Ribbon Burger. No Pink.
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Six or so years ago I took my first trip to Spain to help with evangelism at a church in Zaragoza which is a town in the Northern part of Spain. Today I would list Spanish as one of my favorite food groups but on that first trip it was so foreign to me that it was somewhat hard to stomach, with incarnations of tuna and pork that I was unused to. Upon returning home I was somewhat aghast to find that I was craving Chipotle burritos and Red Robin Hamburgers.
Upon moving to Orlando I find that even with the homogenized food and strip malls of chain restaurants catering to families visiting the ‘attractions’ we do not have a Red Robin. However, there is a Red Robin about 3 1/2 hours to the south in Fort Myers/Cape Coral. That’s it. Just one in Florida (although recently we read about two that are coming about 6 or 8 hours to the north.
Friday for the Easter weekend we found ourselves with enough time, health and money to take a road trip to satisfy my craving for a Blue Ribbon Burger (no lettuce, tomato or pink, swap the onion bun for sesame seed) with a side of tartar in which to dip my bottomless basket of steak fries. Brian had the chicken. An Orlando friend who is semi-native to Fort Myers was home for the holiday weekend and joined us for dinner although I suppose it Red Robin is sort of like Monty Python. If you’ve always had it you will love it, if not, meh. Endlessly refillable Strawberry Lemonades rounded out our caloric and somewhat homesick binge.
We spent Saturday walking off the burgers at Sanibel Island hiking the beach in the surf looking at sunbathers and seashells and made our way home up the middle of the state which is surprisingly interesting with small towns boasting cracker libraries, fruit stands and orange groves.
I enjoyed every bite of that burger although a week later I realize that it helped to surface a homesickness that is more piquant than the burger.
