Imminent Magma & Dinner Bowls
Episode 11:20:2023 - Prompt: Gratitude
Where Gratitude took me…
Grindavik.
Often, when we read something in the news cycle that grabs our attention, or maybe even tugs at our heart strings, we don’t know the people, animals, or landscapes being impacted.
We can empathize, but we can’t imagine.
When the news came in that a volcano was preparing to erupt in Grindavik, the Icelandic fishing village of 3,400 inhabitants, my mother came into our house and announced:
“Anna & Solveig could lose their home.”
Then it clicked.
Our dear friends live in Grindavik.
As we follow their messages on FB and WhatsApp, the reality of losing everything they’ve worked for and hold dear is undeniable.
It’s not a matter of IF the volcano erupts, but WHEN.
Our friends had recently completed renovations & reinforcements in their home to make it secure during earthquakes, as there had been an increase since 2021.
They said they’d sit in their living room, shaking, holding onto things as the tremor passed… sometimes for minutes only to begin again minutes later.
Our friends have been evacuated from their home along with all of the residents of the town. They aren’t sleeping well, unsure of the future, having trouble concentrating, yet are still the gracious, open Anna & Solveig we know & love, aiding in rescues.
Which brings me to the Gratitude of Home.
Dinner was rarely planned in our home growing up.
My dad cooked for the first five years of my life, as far as I remember. His dishes were the most impressive, like African lamb curry with electric green sauce.
When my parents separated, my mom became a single-working-mother.
It’s not that the cupboards were bare or meals forgotten. It’s that we never ate dinner at the same time or knew what we’d be eating.
My mom is a good cook, but she’s not a planner. She likes to see what’s in the fridge and put a menu together in her mind, using what’s left before going shopping.
When I ask if she remembers what she used to make us for dinner, she says she has no memory of it.
I remember artichokes. Stir fry. A hamburger phase. Lasagna.
Everything was homemade except for Kraft Mac & Cheese. My favorite.
When my partner & I started dating in Los Angeles, I was 35. He was 27.
We were both vegetarian, which is very easy to be in L.A. There is no shortage of places to eat delicious vegetarian, from Indian to Thai to Mexican to Garden-to-Table.
When we got a little more serious, we started cooking dinner at home.
I would make pasta, for example, and serve it in a bowl. He liked the sauce, but something always seemed a little disappointing. I couldn’t figure it out.
Then he would cook, and I noticed a difference.
I served a one-bowl dish. He served dishes with many bowls.
I believe they call these sides & garnish.
He put a lot of thought into the flavor & presentation of each one.
Then it hit me.
My partner grew up in a family of five. His mother, who also worked, loved making every dinner special. She put flowers on the table, made savory meals with sides, had all three of her sons sit and eat at the table even as distracted teenagers.
I started to think of dinner as more than a bowl of Ramen. I even thought about what I’d cook and shop for it. I guess it’s ironic that I worked in kitchens for so many years and never brought the art of presentation home.
We’ve been together over fifteen years now. My partner has reached Ninja level as cook. My mom gifted him a vanity apron:
Eric. Numero uno en la cocina.
I do my share with a list of beloved fail-safe recipes, but I really shine at brunch from my years in New York & Berlin where frühstück / brunch culture lasts hours. I will put 10 dishes on the table in the style we’ve enjoyed for breakfast in Morocco.
My offering of gratitude goes out to my partner who consistently provides home & hearth for our family with a menu of meals to die for.
And he makes it look so easy!
YOUR TURN: Where does GRATITUDE take you?
What & who makes you feel grateful?
Often it’s little things, but hey, if you want to go big…
Go big!
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I am grateful for Spelling Bee, the word game in the New York Times, Spelling Bee and Wordle too. Every morning I get up first, very early like 4:30 or 5, feed our old dog, let him out, pour coffee for us both in our travel mugs to keep it hot, then I relax on the couch, Coby curls up on ‘his couch’, and I click open emails first, headlines, then the puzzles, and then take my first crack at Spelling Bee, finding the first few easy words quickly. About then David starts stirring, I hear his waking up noises, a loud sigh or yawn, a cough or two, getting dressed sounds, Coby alerts, picks his head up off the pillow watching expectantly, then David comes out, pats Coby on the head, gives me a kiss. These days I give him a close look, trying to be discrete, as I can usually tell how he is from looking at him, the color of his face, his eyes. Normally he is rosy cheeked, bright eyed, an alert sparkly look, but since his surgery if he isn’t feeling well he looks almost greenish, gaunt and heavy lidded. I can tell from just a glance . His phone has beeped by then, text messages from his family. They all play Wordle and text each other their scores, his sisters, his niece, and a cousin, from North Carolin and Florida. A tiny Hello, Thinking of you, and these days as David is in early recovery stages its especially nice. David brings his coffee to the couch, opens up his laptop and sometimes after a minute or two I hear his triumphant “PANGRAM!” In Spelling Bee when you get a word that uses all 7 letters its called a Pangram. I might say “wow I’ve been working on it for an hour and didn’t find it yet” or “Yeah but there’s a second one there”. We both pick away at Spelling Bee on and off throughout the day. Sometimes we say to each other what ranking we’re at “I’m only Nice what are you?” “I’m Amazing!” or later I might hear “GENIUS!”, the highest ranking we generally reach. We give each other hints especially later on in the day “Did you get the one that describes how you’ve been feeling?” “Oh you mean CRAPPY? Yeah”. “Did you get the one that’s my favorite dinner?” “Yeah I knew YOU would get PICATA”
Since years, there is that place I call my place of gratitude. It is in the middle of the forest, in the Mullerthal, known as Luxembourg's Little Switzerland. The Mullerthal Trail is particularly famous for its fairytale rock formations and waterfalls. But my place of gratitude is also marked by very significant historical incidents of the Second World War. The traces are still visible there, engraved in the rocks: the names of the people and the way in which they were killed, as well as the people who have gone missing. Above these names is written that you should take the time to go into yourself and simply reflect for a moment. In the middle of the rocks is a statue of the Virgin Mary with candles that are always lit.
For me, this place symbolizes gratitude, because as long as I am able to get to this place through my own physical and mental strength, I am fine and can be grateful for my condition and life.