Dinner 10

Anniversary
I've been doing this blog for 10 weeks so I decided to switch it up. As a reward to myself, I let my date turn the tables. I became the guest and he was the host.
If my host was an animal, he would be spunky and cute like this little guy.

I caught this week's date staring at me at a queer dance party. I had to leave with my friends so I told him to look at missed connections the next day. He replied right away with two apologies:

A. He was taken aback when I was so forward and introduced myself, so he was awkward.
B. He had a boyfriend... but he still wanted to hang out.

Well, I'd heard that story before, but I invited him to dinner anyway. Surprisingly, he said I should take a break and he would cook for me. It's about time!

Company
Anniversaries are best celebrated in groups. Even big anniversaries for couples are more fun when their friends are present. This anniversary was no different. I arrived at an old Victorian full of cool, interesting people who immediately took me in. My host lives in a collective-like house where they share groceries, meals, and space comfortably and fluidly. While my host cooked and chatted with me, one person made ice cream, yogurt and granola, another read heavy philosophy, one played with the cat, one broke a measuring cup, and another swept it up.

My host pretended like he didn't know what he was cooking, but when we all settled down to eat, the meal was delicious. We had miso soup, brown rice with stir fried greens and ground beef, and just for the two of us (not the rest of the roommates) there was Japanese-style barbecued steak.

Not actual photos of the food. But it looked very similar... actually, better.

Host vs. Guest

Dinner was enjoyable and conversation was lively, but I found myself feeling out of place. They shared stories about ghosts in the house and I had ghost stories of my own, but I didn't feel like they applied. My host told me about planting an olive tree with his medicine group that day, but I couldn't think of one thing I had done in the past 12 hours. We just weren't each others style. They had great, creative energy but it didn't stimulate mine (and mine didn't contribute to theirs). I had even brought TJ's gluten-free brownies for dessert, but completely forgot about it sitting in my bag. I don't know the chemistry behind the mixture of flavors; why some things taste great together and others are disgusting. People work the same way, but it's unexplainable. Perfectly nice and interesting people can be of no interest to me and vice-versa.

My host and I agreed on one thing: we hated being served. I tried to help cook and clean up, but I repeatedly got in the way. When he filled a glass of water for me to drink, I felt awkward standing right next to him. I could do it myself. I realized that I am the cook and I like to give to people. Even though the idea of someone making dinner for me sounded great, I am most comfortable when I am on my own turf and play by my rules.

Dinner 9

You Get What You Put Into It
Much like his quirky attitude in e-mails, my dinner guest this week showed up snappily dressed. He had on dress shoes, white shirt and pants, a black vest, and a bright red tie. He spoke with a charming Australian accent, but the things he said were not charming.

I asked my guest for one food that he liked and one he disliked. I incorporated both into the menu. He likes olives. I made a simple garden salad with cucumber, heirloom tomatoes, almonds and cranberries. The dressing included olive tapenade with olive oil and balsamic.

Although funny and easy enough to talk to, my dinner guest considered himself a little bit of all of the holy trinity of awkward types of people: a dork, a nerd, and a geek. I swore to distance myself from torturous interactions with these people after going to a big engineering school for undergrad. But here I was again: in for the long haul. And although I was entertained, by the end I was more exhausted from the conversation than by the intense meal I had just cooked up.

Ugly Combinations My guest disliked asparagus. To hide it, I made mashed potatoes (with purple and red potatoes) and mixed in pureed asparagus. I also added tons of garlic and butter to hide the taste. It looks sort of disgusting though.

I learned a lot about various conventions: Dr. Who Conventions (“full of fat gays”), Star Trek Conventions (“full of fat straight people with two kids”) and Furry Conventions. He spilled on the latter, when I asked him where he had met most of his friends. He told me that one day he was like, “Hmm. Where could I meet a bunch of interesting, weird people? A Furry Convention of course!” So, he met furries on-line and now he lives with a bunch. There is furry porn all over the walls of his apartment and he brings over people he wants to freak out or scare off. Interestingly enough, he’s not interested in furries sexually and has never hooked up with someone in an animal suit. Probably one of my favorite dishes from this project: Spicy Tuna with Mango Salsa.

He ate slowly because he said he enjoyed the food so much (even though he only took a small spoon of mashed potatoes). In exchange for gulping down my own food (I still haven’t learned any manners) I had to field many questions about obscure things I knew nothing about. For example: “Do you know the origin of winkle toes?” I had no idea what a winkle toes even was. Well, obviously it’s the name for those spiral-toed shoes that elves might wear and the name comes from the object that extracts a winkle from its home (I didn’t know what a winkle was either; it’s a sea creature with a shell like a snail). I also learned about a lot of random, little-known musicians whose names I can’t remember. He said he likes music that's interesting, not necessarily good. I guess I’m glad I can’t remember the names.For dessert: vanilla frozen yogurt with strawberries and a balsamic vinegar reduction. It came out a little thick and solidified when it hit the ice cream. I still can’t get it right.

Blackbirds

He did ask me one question to which I knew the answer. “What’s with the four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie? Can you even fit that many?” I had researched a lot about the history of cookbooks and I learned about an Italian cookbook from the 16th century that has a recipe "to make pies so that birds may be alive in them and flie out when it is cut up." The nursery rhyme was actually based on a recipe. I guess I’ll admit it. I can be a nerd, too. At least when it comes to food.

Dinner Guest 9

So, now that the interlude with only one man for three weeks is over, a new dinner guest will be here. I actually chose him several weeks ago, but my other dinner guest postponed his appearance. Here are the craigslist questions I asked and his answers:

1. What snacks would you bring on a picnic?
A Roman feast - wine, dates and pistachios. Cheese would also be a right answer, maybe figs too.

2. If your lover served you a terrible meal, what would you do?
Depends if he's having a bad day or it's par for the course. If it's a bad day, politeness and encouragement never go astray. But I confess I used to go out with someone and after he burnt pancakes, ruined porridge and failed at pasta I couldn't help but poke a bit of fun.

3. Where is your favorite place to do grocery shopping?
There's a rather trendy independent supermarket near where I live that sells a lot of fancy produce and real bread. I mean, *real bread* which I can't get at the Mexican supermarket or Safeway. The trendy place is expensive, though, and only for special occasions like birthdays and funerals.

If you're interested in having me over, I'd really appreciate, if I may, your answers to three questions of my own choosing:

1. You have a very complicated machine which does nothing. Which would you prefer - keeping it a secret even though you can't do anything with it, or telling people about it and at least making some conversation out of it?

2. What piece of music do you want played at your funeral?

3. If you could ask any figure in history the questions you asked me, who would it be?

Honestly, I mostly chose him because he actually was bold enough to ask questions of his own. Hmm... good idea/bad idea?

Dinner 8

As a kid, my grandfather used to say, "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach," when I put too much food on my plate and couldn't eat it. We always want more than we can handle. Or we want something because it looks good, even though we don't really know what it will be like.

A boring salad. I made the dressing with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, honey, mustard, salt, pepper. You can add oranges and pecans for something a bit more exciting.

The same dinner guest from the last two weeks came again for this week's dinner. But things had changed. I hadn't seen him since last week and he was vague about his whereabouts. He almost didn't come because he had to go to the gym and it was very late by the time he arrived. He still said sweet things like he always said. He said he liked me and missed me. When I suggested we start making dinner, he said, "You are my dinner and my breakfast and my lunch and dessert (cheesy, I know)."

But I felt myself getting cold. If he liked me that much why could he barely hang out with me? Why was going to the gym more important? I couldn't return kind phrases and dinner came out plain and intentionally unispired. Everything was different this week. I tried going gluten-free for a while. I made rice pasta and a chicken tomato sauce that was a little bit of leftover Trader' Joes marinara sauce with some chopped tomatoes, onions, green pepper, and mushrooms.

I knew the parameters of our relationship when we first met. He would be leaving in a month and he was closeted so had to keep his life comparmentalized. I saw what I was getting into and I thought I would be okay with it. And admittedly, I was blinded by how attractive and sexy he was.

But the actual taste of the situation doesn't work for me. I have different needs that he can't provide. There's no point in tormenting myself over something that doesn't fit my stomachheart. In this case it isn't so much that my eyes are bigger than my stomach, but maybe my stomachheart can't survive on sight alone. We all need something that we can hold onto and take our time to digest and enjoy. So next week, an all new dinner guest!

Dinner 7

Breaking the Rules
Some people believe that if you don't follow a recipe correctly, the product will end up a disaster. Or at the very least, a disappointment. Others reference recipes in order to adapt them. Really good cooks and bakers know what measurements to alter and what ingredients to add or omit to make something new and unique.

This German Potato Salad is from the classic Joy of Cooking. I used purple potatoes and turkey bacon for a colorful, healthier, and Muslim-friendly twist.

When I told my friends who this week's dinner guest was, half of them said I was breaking my own rules. My guest was also last week's guest. Wasn't I supposed to be meeting someone new every week? Wasn't I supposed to find a random person on craigslist? The other half nodded and said, "Well, wasn't that your goal in the first place?" Whatever the case, the basic rules haven't changed: a meal and a man on Monday. And that's what happened.

Effort
So, last week's dinner guest came again. Just like last week, we cooked together and debated over the best ways to do things. He thought we should have boiled the asparagus rather than baking it and he was convinced the chicken was undercooked. The meal came out well, though and visually, it was beautiful.

We stuffed chicken with mushrooms, spinach, and feta. We baked white asparagus with red peppers, garlic, and rosemary.

I had still posted a craigslist ad that week and I asked him one of my questions: If a lover cooked a really terrible meal for you, what would you do? He said that depending on the vibe of the relationship, he would tell the lover that it wasn't that good, but maybe he would wait until the next day. He thought it would suck if they spent a long time making a meal, and he took one bite and said it was terrible. He also told me that the night before he had gone to his friend's house for a big Middle Eastern meal. The friend usually cooked for 4 or 5 people, but there were 12 this time. The friend burned the rice and the meal was finished really late. My guest said they tried to eat the rice anyway, but it was so bad. They told the friend straight up that it was terrible. Sometimes you just have to be honest no matter what the relationship.

He also told me this story: A couple had been married many years and everyday the wife cooked dinner for her husband. She was a good cook, but one day she messed up the meal and it was disgusting. She had nothing else to serve at the table, so the husband had to eat the meal anyway. She was afraid he would be angry. He wasn't though. He said he was actually happy because the bad meal reminded him of their first year of marriage. At that point she couldn't cook very well, but they were happy and in love.

My dinner guest took this picture.

Adaptability

Over dishes (side by side again), my dinner guest and I talked a lot about water. He kept asking my roommates and I about filtering water. In Kuwait, he never drank water from the tap and in fact he barely drank water at all. He drinks it a lot more here and is fascinated that people drink tap water. He still filters it. We both observed that people that live in hot climates have somehow adapted to conserve water, so they don't have to drink it that much. When they do, they have special ways of purifying it. In Kuwait they pour water into a long-necked ceramic jug and place it in the sun. The heat forces water through the clay and the jar sweats. People gather the water and drink it because after its journey through the jug, it has become pure. I told him that in Madagascar (I lived there a couple years) people eat rice three times a day. After cooking rice, they pour water into the pot with the burnt rice and let it boil over the fire. This is practically the only water they drink all day, hot burnt rice water.

My dinner guest and I disagreed about a lot of things. We come from different cultures and different religious backgrounds and have conflicting points of view. But just as I adapted this project according to the kind of responses I got and the men I met, we adapted to each other. We debated our ideas, learned new perspectives and yet rejected things that we couldn't accept. Despite our differences, like drinking water, we learn the best way to take each other in.

Dinner 6

Critical Chef
When I cook, I am my hardest critic. I should have added more pepper or less salt. Something is always missing. I doubt that things will turn out right. And this craigslist experiment has made me the same way with men. I don't have high expectations because people don't respond to my invites or they just stand me up.
This simple, fresh cucumber-avocado bisque recipe and other cold soups can be found here.

But sometimes men surprise me, just like unusual recipes. I met Week 6's Dinner Guest differently than the rest. We saw each other at the Valentine's Day pillow fight downtown and he missed-connected me on craigslist. We hung out one time before this dinner and things went well, so I invited him.

Sous-Chef
Although my dinner guest was late, he made up for it. He immediately started to help me cook, fitting into the kitchen and my rhythm perfectly. He diced onions and garlic, while I browned the turkey. He added the other vegetables, while I prepared the sweet potatoes. And we joked and debated the whole time about what ingredients to throw on the skillet first. He wasn't just my assistant, but a co-chef.

My friend told me about this Sweet Potato Shepherd's Pie at Gluten-Free Goddess.

During dinner my guest told me about his life back home in Kuwait. It's common there to have a cook, so he didn't learn to cook until he came to the states for school four years ago. The first time he tried to cook some canned tuna, he let the oil get too hot. When he added the tuna, it exploded into flame and he just waited for it stop. Then he ate the food anyway. He did claim that his mom was the best cook ever and I told him that every son says that about his mom. He swore that his friends agreed though.

He also told me that he had killed sheep and camels for meals. He once tried to cut off the horns of a sheep, which are really tough, but he accidentally cracked the skull so that they couldn't eat the head (which he said is really delicious). He said that camels were the hardest to kill because you had to stab them directly in the heart, otherwise they would thrash around and kill you. Camels have really good memories and if you are mean to them, they will remember you even after many years. The next time they see you, they will jump on you and crush you. Lesson: be nice to camels even if they spit.
This shockingly yummy, but unfortunately fatty flan can be found here.

I asked him about Kuwaiti literature and he said that there wasn't too much, but that Kuwait is one of the most informed countries in the world. Everyone reads the newspaper and once a week they all gather together and talk about the recent news stories and update those that didn't hear about something. They play music at these gatherings and he showed me some of his favorite traditional songs on youtube. He even pointed out some of the male musician's boyfriends in the video clips. Although my guest is closeted to his Arab friends, certain forms of homosexuality occur in his culture. Young boys experiment with each other and a man is still considered 'straight' if he tops. It's complicated, but what about sexuality isn't?

Dishwasher
Dishwashers may not be the best paid people on the planet, but I felt rich and full because after dessert, my guest and I washed everything side by side. His ideas about sex might be complicated, but this action was simple. It was like we had been doing weekly dinner's for many years. Maybe we skipped a few steps because he will go back home in a month. But maybe we're just a recipe that's quick and easy to make, and tasty too. Or maybe I found a stomach-heart.