A Night to Remember

I have to tell you about the meal I ate last night.  Actually,  I didn't just eat it, I inhaled it slowly through all my senses.  I actively ate each bite as in the present as I could, feeling the textures and imbibing the scents like few I have before.  No, I'm not on death row.  I was having one of my last meals with a very dear friend of mine, who is moving too far away.  Also, it's the first "regular" meal I've eaten since starting the Dukan Diet on Labor Day.  So after 30 days of eating strictly lean proteins with alternate days of proteins plus veggies (and being down 18 pounds for my diligence), I broke the fast and ate a little chicken dip, had a shot of tequila, some pollo verde enchiladas, rice, beans, cesaer salad and scalloped potatoes.

It was the potatoes that did me in.  I have been fantasizing about my late Grandmother's scallooped potatoes, with the thinly sliced spuds layered with cheese and celery, baked with a milk sauce.  Omg.  Seriously.  I just had to decide to let up on my strict diet and give in to the call.

Let me back up a little.  This wonderful group of friends evolved from a restaurant job in town.  I was hired by a fantastic lady (Ms. Joni) to be her baker.  Next she hired Lora, an amazing chef (and forever sister of mine), then Marshall came along to round us out, with his artistic flair and wonderful sense of humor and compassion.  Unfortunately, these difficult economic times proved tough for our little small-town eatery, but the friendships live on. 

Marshall hails from Colorado and the longing to move back has been a part of him as long as I've known him.  Well, his dreams are coming true and to celebrate he invited a few of us over to cook with him.  I planned on bringing a notebook and taking copious notes from this Master, but I left the notebook in my bag and simply let the night be my teacher.  The sounds of onions caramelizing, the laughter of friends, and the chopping of thyme drew me in. 

Earlier in the day, I made up my mind to enjoy this meal, (taking one serving of each item) because it symbolized too much to let simply slide by because of diet concerns.  I had been "good" after all and will continue to do so until my desired healthy weight is reached.  Much rides on the success of being healthy, not to mention the bags of clothes eagerly awaiting me in my garage, items I used to wear and look forward to again.  On the other hand, I consciously threw myself into this bittersweet evening of friendship, love and potatoes. 

As we sat around the intimate table, enjoying a small glass of wine and a large glass of iced water, I suddently realized that my plate did not have all the necessary items.  "Where are the f***ing potatoes?!?" I blurted.  With mock indignation, Marshall gave me a hard time for my rudeness.  I was assured that they were in the oven for just a few more minutes.  My heartrate steadied back to normal and I patiently awaited the desired dish, although I was quoted throughout the night. 

This evening was imprinted on my memory and soul.  Although we may be miles apart, Marshall will always remain in my heart.  A roadtrip was planned and I pray it comes to fruition.

I will need more potatoes. 
Thanks for listening.