Strange and Romantic Dinner Alone, a Love Letter to M. F. K. Fisher
I have two parents who don’t care much about food. My mother could live on tea and toast smeared thick with butter and be perfectly content, while my father earned the nickname The Red Tornado early in life for tearing through a meal as fast as those funneling winds can sweep across West Texas. How then, did these two produce such a produce-swooner, cookbook-reader, and eager-to-serve hostess?
It could have been those melancholic, rainy fall months in Italy where I tasted my first wild boar sausage and clutched big bowls of cafe lattes with both hands. Or perhaps it was the vacation I took with my sister, both of us heartbroken and in France for the first time, drunk on foie gras and champagne. Or was it working at the best job I’ve known for a chef with a deep appreciation for sunny lunches, Algerian wine, and beautiful women? It was all those things, of course. But most instructive of all was the vibrant orange book spine that caught my eye at the local library three summers ago. Will you be patient with me as I take you back there?
It was a slow, long summer, intermittently blissful and restless; I was hovering uncomfortably in the three months between college and whatever came next. With little money and plenty of time, I stayed in bed late with iced espresso and then rode a heavy red Schwinn on the river path high up above the Mississippi. I trolled dusty book shops looking for Scribner paperbacks from the 60s, wandered the stalls of the nearby antique mall making moony eyes at brooches and embroidered handkerchiefs, and walked up and down the aisles of the grocery store picking up tins, jars, and packages of exotic ethnic ingredients. I was killing time. And If I was hungry, I would call my best friend who lived six blocks away for a comparison of freezer, pantry, and fridge. If she had shallots, then I had some shrimp, and if I could scrounge together some pasta from the bottom of this box or that and she could bring over some olive oil, we could eat supper on my back porch with the mosquitoes and the fireflies.
It was also the summer I went on one of those dates that changes the path of where you think your life is headed. We saw the Umbrellas of Cherbourg in a little theater that served RC cola and then stood huddled on the sidewalk waiting for a cab in a blast of strange summer cold. That cab would take us to a cozy bistro, and there we would share champagne and oysters and frites. That was the night I learned the date who was turning my life upside down didn’t like oysters (why am I being so coy, you know who he is), but that was not the reason that evening was so important. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
It was thanks to a small selection at the library, the grace of serendipity, and of course that eye-catching orange spine that I found The Gastronomical Me. And it was because of M. F. K. Fisher that my last quiet mornings, noons, and nights spent alone in a city I had loved and had loved me back were not fretted away with complete trepidation about the future that lay ahead. Instead, I pored over a rich life of adventure, reflection, and love, days filled with summer peach pies and cold bottles of milk, nights with hot cafe cremes and good movies watched with a true love. In her voice I found a mentor and in her way of living a model. And when you’re adrift with what’s to come and what’s to be and who you are and who you want to be, there is deep comfort in getting even one small piece of the picture to fall into place.
Without my dear M. F. K., I might not have appreciated those cold, salty oysters in the full manner I did, drinking up the soft light and the handsome visage of the man I was falling in love with. I would not have spent the duration of countless tedious subway rides happily transported to a world of self-possession, curiosity, and fine, simple food. I would not have started this blog, and I certainly would have never thought — would not have had the tools or the experience to imagine — this very salad, which I loved, and ate alone.
Watercress and Roasted Leek Salad with Broiled Goat Cheese and Dijon Vinaigrette
Serves 1
1 leek
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 bunch watercress
1 2 oz button of goat cheese cut in half horizontally (spread the other half on a sandwich another day)
for the vinaigrette
1 small shallot, minced
1/2 teaspoon dijon mustard
1 teaspoon red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon olive oil
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees fahrenheit. Slice the white part of your leek on the diagonal and then separate into rings as you would with an onion. Soak the leeks in several changes of cold water — they are notoriously dirty. Toss with 1 teaspoon of olive oil and throw into the oven for 20 or 25 minutes until soft and wilted.
Place the goat cheese on a piece of aluminum foil and throw it under your broiler for about five minutes until it is hot and taking on a dark brown hue in spots. Meanwhile, whisk together all the ingredients for the vinaigrette in the bottom of your salad bowl. Add watercress and leeks and toss. Then pile greens on a plate and top with broiled goat cheese.
lisastrawberry: This is swoony. Simply beautiful, and romantic as well… I have loved your blog for months now, but have yet to comment. This is the post for which I shall bid you hello, across the miles, from my abode in Austin Texas. My own dreamy man and I (and my sister and her soulmate) are grilling up some lovely summer vegetables today, and drinking a bottle of Vinho Verde. I’ll raise a glass to you.
xx Lisa in Austin3 years ago
AKC: Sarah, it just so happens I’m reading “The Gastronomical Me” RIGHT NOW! How ’bout that?3 years ago
martha: Hi Sarah, I found your blog through the Globe and Mail newsletter mention that came out a few months ago, only to find out that we live in the same borough and seem to love all the same things! MFK Fisher was my greatest summer read last year - I took the compendium on a road trip with me and couldn’t put it down. Good to know there are other fans out there…3 years ago
Molly: Gorgeous, gorgeous post, Sarah. And I love your description of that date with Sebastian. So very lovely! Sigh.
Here’s to summers, huh?3 years ago
Sarah: Lisa, So you glad you said hello! Sounds like you are having a lovely evening — and in my home state, too!
AKC, Finally! I’m so glad you’re reading it, and I hope you’re liking it. I mean, I do tend to talk her up a bit…
Martha, I couldn’t be happier to meet a similarly-minded lady out there. Perhaps we should have a borough rendezvous?
Molly, Coming from a writer I admire *so* much, yours is a compliment that floors me. Thank you. Here’s to summers, indeed!3 years ago
AKC: Truth be told, I read the first few pages of your copy over Thanksgiving last year, and decided I needed to check it out. Ruth Reichl also talks about her a lot in “Comfort me with Apples,” a book I have thanks to your sister. All good stuff. Highly recommended.3 years ago
Sarah: It just so happens I have Tender at the Bone laying on my bedroom floor right now! How ’bout that!3 years ago
Ann: Lovely and evocative post! You might enjoy “Poet of the Appetites: The Lives and Loves of M.F.K. Fisher” by Joan Reardon. I see that used copies are available from $1.99 via Amazon. Did you know that you can get used books and, often, hardbacked treasures very cheaply from the second-hand book dealers that work with Amazon?3 years ago
Bethany: This salad looks like it’s right up my alley. I despise those diet salads that don’t have any flavor, so I’m excited to try this out!3 years ago
agnes: your life has never been busier, and yet your writing has never been so delicious! amazing.3 years ago
melanie: this looks yummy.
the comment about your parents made me laugh…my mom is an excellent baker, but has no interest in actual meals…she survives on ritz crackers, string cheese, and diet pepsi. (i’m not even kidding!)
i, on the other hand, happen to love all food.3 years ago
martha: Oooh, a neighborhood meetup? Sounds delightful! Please forgive my over-the-top alliteration, but perhaps an official Pink of Perfection Picnic in the Park is in order?
Truly, your blog is a joy to read. It would be lovely to meet offline sometime!3 years ago
pbg: what a beautiful thing to read3 years ago
sebastian: Damn what a beautiful post. I’m sorry my work schedule has gotten so nuts that you had to eat alone. And I’m even more sorry I don’t like oysters.
But with you the world’s my oyster. I’m sure MFK would appreciate the sentiment there.3 years ago
Sarah: Ann, I have Poet of the Appetites sitting on my bookshelf - I suppose it’s about time to crack it open. And I LOVE getting used books from Amazon.
Bethany, Mmm, I love salads so much. Isn’t it too bad that dieters have given them such a bad name?
Melanie, A woman can not live on Ritz crackers alone! Glad you somehow got the chowhound gene.
Martha, I love your alliterative idea! I will think on this…
PBG, I miss you, and I wish I could have seen you standing on the sunny patio of the Fig on Grand Old Day.
Sebastian, Eating alone is not so bad, from time to time. But it is never as nice as breaking bread with you. As Fleetwood Mac says, you make loving fun.
3 years ago
nicole: Love this. And I love MFK, too — when I first ‘discovered’ her, I felt like I’d just been given the world’s best ever birthday present.3 years ago
Step-Monster: On my way to the store, I know what we are having for dinner tonight, or is it supper, here in the south? Yum Yum3 years ago
Oh Dear: looks delicious!3 years ago
Lisa Tyrrell: This is the most beautiful post! So reminds me of an earlier time recieving letters from a toutured friend, spending the summer in the south. “Dear Lisa, Resiling, Tammy Wynette, Katherine Anne Porter….ice melting the minute it hit the glass kind of heat..the din of birds…”that’s about all I can remember from those sweet and perfect tomes I’d recieve each week. Your post conjurs sweet memories of sticky heat, summer time lounging, front porch idling, and sweet, light, terrifically yummy food like your delicate salad for one. Thanks! Officially addicted to your site now! From one ‘non-foodie’ to another…3 years ago
Sarah: Lisa, Your friend’s letters sound just beautiful. And Riesling, Tammy Wynette, and Katherine Anne Porter sounds like one of the best combos out there.3 years ago
Tea: What a lovely post! And what a perfect time to encounter MFK, when the future is still wide open and full of possibility. I look forward to trying your salad, thanks!3 years ago