Getting What You Need, and The Very Best Lunch
One late April in Brussels when blooming wisteria was clinging to the cool stones of gray buildings and the nightly rain was pattering against the skylight above a bed in an apartment on the Chaussée de Charleroi, I arrived in the homeland of Jacques Brel to visit a best friend and drink beer. I thought I wanted only to catch up and eat frites. But the magic of an old friend can sneak up on you like that.
On a sunny Saturday, we woke up to the promise of a salad eaten at the long, wooden dining room table. We walked down the cobblestone sidewalks of Saint-Gilles, granny cart bumping along behind us, to a large grocery. The leeks were slimmer in Belgium, the radishes rosier, and bottles of rosé lined up at the end of an aisle were going for a song. We filled our cart with greens and cheese, and a long crusty baguette. On the way home, I bought a bouquet of orange tulips.
Back at my friend’s apartment, which is in so many ways my ideal apartment, I sat at the bar overlooking the kitchen as she whisked a vinaigrette of lemon juice, mustard, honey and olive oil. While she cut radishes, blanched haricots vert, sliced olives, slivered an avocado, and hard-boiled eggs with a vibrant orange yolk, I snacked on cornichons and goat cheese. I snagged an olive or two or five. I opened the wine, and she made me laugh.
I love nothing more than a proper lunch. One eaten with wine, with too much to say and the feeling that there is plenty of time in which to say it. The promise of a nap afterward. Provençal dishes, a best friend, the sun streaming in through tall windows and the best aged goat cheese you’ve ever had — they are not required, of course, but bring the lunch that much closer to something like a religious experience. And I don’t think I am overstating things.
I harp on and on about the French this, the French that, daydreaming about how a life in Europe could feel so different than a life in Brooklyn. But the truth of the matter is that my friend is American. She has hosted big dinner parties in small, charmless student-issued apartments in Minnesota. She has always had at least one bottle of wine on the kitchen counter and at least one go-to outfit that makes her feel, as my sister says, unstoppable. And she has always been imbued with the sunny dynamism of a woman in love with life.
I didn’t realize when I boarded the plane to Belgium, or when I stepped off it, or until my third day waking up next to a happy, curly-haired friend how serious my own life had become. My friend’s chattiness, her exuberance, her grace at the cutting board and love of pretty frocks eased a knot of stress in me that was buried so deep it had gone unnoticed. After one beer on a square here or there, one hard belly-laugh after another, a tightness in my throat began to gradually unfurl so that each time we passed a park redolent with lilacs blooming over a pétanque court, I had to stop. Each graceful scroll of a menu written on a window, each twist of art nouveau wrought iron and each time my friend told a story that made me laugh yet again, each time she set before me a bowl of something warm to eat or a cup of hot coffee was like a convalescence for a person who didn’t even know she was sick.
If I ever doubted my own hunch that pleasure is the greatest healer, or that a good friend can set you right again, no matter what ails you, I am newly convinced. And if I had ever forgotten that there is nothing better than a lunch of wine, salad, bread and cheese, I won’t need to be reminded again.
Sara Rose: Amen, soul sister. You’re singing my song.
2 years ago
Erin: Beautiful post!2 years ago
Lisa (dinner party): What a lovely story. Thanks for sharing it.2 years ago
Kathryn: I really loved this post. It’s a great reminder to spend more time with the people that fill us up with joy instead of draining it. Thanks for sharing.2 years ago
Jora: Sarah, this was a simply beautiful post. Thank you. xo2 years ago
Stephanie: I loved this post. And love the idea of cultivating the “sunny dynamism of a woman in love with life” even more.2 years ago
Stephanie, I’m trying to cultivate that too! It comes more naturally to some of us more than others.
So glad you all liked this little story!2 years ago
Karen: Love, love, loved this post…2 years ago
Julia: i had a little tear in my eye reading this, and i can’t really explain why… Thank you for the post, and I’m glad you had a lovely time with your friend in Brussells2 years ago
Julia, Probably because you are as much of a sap as I am, or you miss someone, or you have a very wonderful friend who makes delicious salads for you sometimes, or all of the above. xo2 years ago
Sara: Such a beautiful story. Thank you. And I know what I’m doing for lunch on Saturday now
2 years ago
Karen Chaffee: Oh, to have such a friend and such a place in which to heal. Or…to BE that friend.
Wonderful post.2 years ago
MrsB: oh Lordy, I also shed a tear! I understand your feeling of stress that you hadn’t even realised that you had, just hit home. I am sending a snail mail letter today to my lovely lovely friend today! Thankyou for showing inadvertently a path through the blues, that is open to us all! xxxxx2 years ago
tina winkle: Beautiful post!
2 years ago
Rae: I am all dewy-eyed too, and I hope you realize, Sarah, that you are our internet, long distance friend that cures what ails us too! Thank goodness, there is a good contagious pandemic right here at POP.2 years ago
Kristina: Lovely writing. So often, your blog makes me want to call my friends. What a happy side effect.2 years ago
I’m really so touched that something about this resonated with all of you. Sometimes before something like this I think, “is this too personal?” but it’s worth putting stuff like this out there if it can resonate with some of you.
And Rae, that is the kindest thing you could have said.
2 years ago
Joyce Gibney: How poetic! Sounds like you found nirvana. Inspirational. Thank you Sara.2 years ago
s. stockwell: You just write so well! “like a convalescence for a person who didn’t even know she was sick” that is such a potent line. That is now my goal when my sorority sisters land May 15 for a weekender. Thanks for this. best from Santa Barbara, s2 years ago
love,gidget: delightful!2 years ago
Luisa: Just lovely. After a weekend of healing pleasure in Paris with my girlfriends, I nodded along with every sentence of this post.2 years ago
Vanessa: I loved this too. Often I also daydream of a different life, away from Brooklyn. But it is what you make of it… friends and food can have that healing power anywhere, anytime… Thanks for sharing.2 years ago
Suzy: Wow, what a strong post. I know just what you mean. Beautiful.2 years ago
Joy: Your curly haired friend sounds delightful – can you share her?! Beautiful post xx2 years ago
Jen: Fantastically written…brought a little tear to my eye, actually! Thank goodness for those kinds of friends; the ones whose spirit is just infectious. Glad you had a renewing visit.2 years ago
Juliette: What a beautiful story! I agree with you wholeheartedly, and love the lunch you had, made even better by the company.
2 years ago
deb: You’re the loveliest, lady.
And now I miss wine.2 years ago
Tea_Austen: This is so gorgeous, Sarah. It’s beautiful and honest and oh so true. Puts me in that place of not knowing whether I should cry or smile.
After looking at Luisa’s flickr photos of her trip to Paris this morning I was already missing my girlfriends. You’ve put me over the edge. There will be phone calls made this afternoon, plans too.
Thanks!2 years ago
nicole: This is the loveliest. I have been lucky enough to enjoy lunches like this and today, when it’s grey and spitting down rain in San Francisco, I would love to have one … sigh.2 years ago
jen: I absolutely loved this post.2 years ago
Jenni: Food, words, friendship… all so special and all so important! Thanks for sharing this story Sarah. It really resonated and made me all warm and happy!2 years ago
stephanie: This post was a gem – I thought about it for 2 days… thanks!! So lovely…2 years ago
Jen Jafarzadeh: Your post brought me back to the Thursday before my wedding when four of my amazing friends arrived to help me turn a barn into my dream space, went straight to the farmhouse’s kitchen to make a late dinner so everyone was fed, and brought the most amazing sense of rhythmic calm to a girl overwhelmed with excitement. There are friends you have to hang out with and friends you have that can alter your whole mood effortlessly. Thanks for the amazing post, Sarah — it was so lovely to read your story.2 years ago
Oh man. I wish we were all in the same room together and could share our friend stories. Sometimes the internet is just not enough…though this comment thread comes very close.2 years ago
Patricia: I’ve come late to this post but just have to say how lovely it is. You have a beautiful way with words Sarah.2 years ago
Aleah: I’ve been reading you blog for about a year now, and although I love what and how you write this is first time I’ve been moved to comment. Just want to say thanks for the reminder.2 years ago
Jackie: This came at the perfect time. Thanks for a lovely, beautifully-written post. My best friend and I chatted yesterday and it was exactly the medicine I needed. No doctor’s tricks could come close.
2 years ago
Anna: Hello! My best friend sent me this post because she said it reminded her of a visit she made to me in Australia (she’s been living in London for 8 years) and a beautiful lazy weekend we spent.
I read the post in absolute tears – it was so beautifully written and moving. Not to mention inspiring! A real message about life’s joys.
Thank you for sharing it!2 years ago