leaving room for inspiration

This Thanksgiving we went to New York. We stayed with my friend, H., who lives in a tiny studio at a very chic address in Manhattan. I volunteered to make Thanksgiving dinner, which was very simple, but I had no idea what I was getting myself into. You have never really cooked until you've cooked in a tiny New York apartment. I won't go into the gruesome details, but here are some highlights:
~ I broke one of her 4 plates (that's right she has, or rather had, 4.) It was her great grandmother's and had little pink rosebuds on it and gilded edges. I felt guiltier about that than just about anything in the recent past.
~ We discussed various coping techniques, such as pretending that one's oven is a dishwasher and "storing" dirty dishes in there, converting one's oven to a counter by scouring Manhattan for a perfectly-sized cutting board to place over the burners, and the weeks of deliberation required before making any kitchen purchase, such as martini glasses, especially if said purchase does not multitask.
~ As I sat on her lovely, vintage, blue velvet couch, H. handed me a bag of sweet potatoes and parsnips, a knife, and a cutting board. Me, "Where should I cut these"?" Her, "On your lap, of course!" Me, silently to myself, "Does not compute. Does not compute."

Another interesting aspect of the trip was the preparation for it. I know I am now a full-fledged member of Asheville's food community, because as soon as it became known that I was planning a trip to New York, I was inundated with an enormous amount of information in the form of magazine articles, maps, food guides, and actual menus from New York restaurants. Some of these menus had actual drawings on them of what each plate looked like, with notes , such as "served with torn Romaine leaves" or, more spectacularly, "red onion foam" , "foie gras powder", and "methylcellulose".

It was literally like I was a pilgrim about to journey to Mecca. I did not want to to tell these people that although I was going to the holy city, I was not necessarly planning on eating as many avant garde meals as possible. Although I am certainly interested in Wyle Dufresne and the like, I really enjoy just wandering cities and seeing where I end up, with no particular plan.

So we ended up with a great dimsum experience in Chinatown, and with Indian at some crazy tiny restaurant, and the strongest margaritas I have ever had - I was drunk after 3 sips!

In fact, the most important food experience I had was not a food experience at all. I was when we went out in the cold and rain and wind on Thanksgiving day and looked at all the Christmas window displays. One in particular stood out to me, and it wasn't until we were driving home and I had time to process all the information I had taken in during the trip that it hit me - I knew what I would do for my capstone piece monte. This simply means that next semester I have to make some sort of an edible showpiece, and I got the most perfect, amazing idea from Bendel's window display. I don't want to share it yet, I'm not even sure if I can do it, but it was a truly exciting moment when it came to me.

Perhaps we could have planned more carefully, and I could have arrived home wtih my own annotated menus and meticulous plate drawings. But for now, at least, I spend so much of my time doing things like that. I plan recipes for school, and agonize over the exact curves of the lines of food on platters presented to be graded. I guess, this time, I just wanted a freer experience of eating. Less planned, more chaotic, and leaving room for that elusive spark of inspiration.