 |
| Maureen, Me, Zaki at Restaurant Daniel |
A couple of months ago we were lucky to have two employees
of Room to Read visiting from their home countries of Bangladesh and
Zambia. For Maureen, the director of literacy programs in Zambia, it was her very first time to the city. For Zaki, country director of Room to Read Bangladesh, this was his second time, but on his first visit he had never
strayed much farther than his relative’s house in New Jersey.
When two loyal Room to Read supporters offered to take
everyone out to dinner- Zaki, Maureen, John, and me- Daniel was their first
suggestion. I’m never one to turn down
dinner at Daniel (among the best anywhere in the world), but what would our
guests think? Would the pomp and
circumstance of such a formal dining experience be too much? Would they understand and like Daniel Boulud’s signature style of
fresh seasonal, ingredients grounded in classical French technique?
The night of the dinner I was seated next to Zaki at the
large, round corner table. Opening the
menu I quickly set out to help him navigate his choices. Most native English speakers would have
difficulty understanding some of the ingredients, let alone a Bangladeshi. Rather than translate the extensive menu word
for word we narrowed down his choices based on more basic concepts. “For your
starter, would you like soup, salad, pasta, or meat?” “Are you feeling more like fish tonight, or
meat? There is wild game and beef.”
 |
| Sweet Finish: Passion Fruit Jelly with Meringue |
Our hostess steered him toward one of the night’s specials:
white asparagus flown in from France. But before that was served came the requisite
amuse bouche: a trio that evening on the theme of broccoli. I watched anxiously as Zaki and Maureen
picked up their dainty silver utensils and dipped into the Lilliputian
porcelain dishes. The plates were almost
universally licked clean. Even my
broccoli-averse beau John scraped out every last drop in his small cup of
broccoli veloute.
Two thirds of our table went with the white asparagus. To be a contrarian, I ordered a duo of
octopus. It was sublime, meltingly
tender. I passed a piece onto Zaki’s
plate for him to try. “What do you think?” He chewed slowly, concentrating on each
morsel. He turned his head. “Amy, the
last five bites I’ve had”- amuse bouches and now appetizers- “have been
completely new tastes for me. And each
one has been gorgeous.”
Across the table Maureen and our hostess were caught up in
their own private conversation, like old friends gossiping over a casual girls’
night dinner. Maureen ate every bite of
the white asparagus and appeared to clean her plate with the main course as
well. I saw Maureen the next day and
finally had the chance to ask her what she thought of everything. What did she think of the food?
“Amy, as I was going home in the cab last night I had a
moment where I realized I had been smiling for hours. I was still grinning ear to ear from that
dinner.
“My father passed away six months ago. Last night was the first night since he died
that I allowed myself to be happy. It
was wonderful, just wonderful. And I
said to myself, Maureen, this is what he would want. He wants
you to be happy.”
I have had transcendent moments with food sitting on a
street corner eating from a cart and I have had revelatory experiences in the
plush cushions of four-star restaurants.
But I’ve never known until that night whether that translated across
cultures and continents, not the words but the transformative, inspiring,
healing power of a dining experience.
Zaki, an accomplished home cook back in Bangladesh, had that experience
eating food after food he had never tasted before. While Maureen found, in the company of
friends, in a beautiful dining room, being served exquisitely prepared cuisine,
the healing power of a great meal. That
is a beautiful, gorgeous, thought indeed.
Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell
Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell
