Crêpes

Last week on Sunday I went to a brunch with friends. We cooked--others cooked; I contributed ingredients--a delicious spread including heart-shaped veggie sausage patties. After we finished eating we played a board game and chatted. There was a great collection of people who all knew two or three other people there but were meeting the rest for the first time. We all had such a good time that we decided to make it a regular event. This Sunday I was charged with bringing the juice and the whip cream. Some faces were familiar from the week before; others were new to me. Jet (one of our hosts) made us crêpes, which we kept praising effusively.

As we sat and ate, I found myself thinking about Ashley. My family's connection to hers often has a meal as a backdrop in my mind. I find myself thinking about Vimala, a common friend who cooks amazing idlis and chutney. I find myself thinking about Weaver Street, where I often run into Ashley and where I've seen live music on the lawn twice this week.

I'm remembering a hamburger dinner at Ashley's house not terribly long ago. I'm remembering a growler of beer shared around her table. Perhaps everything looks so picturesque and happy because my memory is fuzzy enough that the above is about as detailed as my memory gets, but I remain convinced that cooking and eating food with friends is one of the great pleasures we don't appreciate enough in the moment. It doesn't matter if the conversation is awkward or the food cold. It doesn't matter if the bugs are out or the dog in and underfoot: if there is food and others around to share it with, stop to reflect. Stop and hold the joy of food, friends and sharing in your mind.