Or – A Writing Exercise to Stretch the Mind and Challenge One’s Vocabulary Language Terminolgy Lexis
I’m seated on a black wrought iron chair in my favorite Italian market/café/deli (the only good one in town, really, and as it wins Best Of in the Italian category each year) at a table for two so small there’s barely room for me. It’s cold and stiff and hurts my ass butt behind because of the shape of the iron, with a overall design I can’t begin to describe because I don’t have the requisite architectural training lexis in my repertoire vocabulary range. The waiter places my chicken parmesan lunch plate in front of me as I salivate over the forthcoming feast of fat breaded chicken breasts, pasta with fresh plum tomato sauce, and a rather poor excuse of a salad (iceberg lettuce, a few pale tomatoes, and onion slices slathered in a very too vinegar-y Italian vinaigrette) served so often in Italian restaurants (don’t they know about arugula, spinach, and red leaf lettuce?).
Writing pad is to my right (because I’m right-handed, duh) and it awaits my handwritten commentary (yes, I still know how to right write, because of thanks to all those Catholic grammar school penmanship classes) on the meal before me as an exercise in descriptive writing (just a food lover with a need for a little mental workout). I’ve eaten here before, so I know I’ll get another two meals out of this serving lunch, it’s that big (not bad for $11). It’s crowded (as usual) and I managed to find a small table for two (with barely enough room for me) in the corner by the door (so my writing can be interrupted disrupted by every new customer who walks in for the same reason I’m here – the best meal of the day).
I slice into the done-just-right battered chicken slathered lovingly coated in their famous, daily-made plum tomato marinara sauce and slowly place the steaming chunk in my mouth. I am immediately transported to another time and place: the Northeast (aka home). Nothing better than living in a strange place and discovering a little slice of heaven to make it feel more like home. Chewing is a delight of the senses in layers of flavors: moist and slightly lightly crispy crisp boneless breast meat, sweet plum tomatoes, a little basil, oregano, olive oil, fresh parmesan cheese…they export many of their ingredients directly from Italy. The pasta, spaghetti (always), is al dente, of course, and also married with their famous tomato marinara sauce. I eschew the salad for the first several bites as I’m in some sort of Sicilian or Roman (the family’s actually from Verano, up north) heaven and can’t pull myself away from the chicken or the pasta. Finally, the salad begins to make its way into my mouth and it’s an unsurprising predictable humdrum plate of flavorless lettuce too heavily drizzled with an overly tangy creamy Italian dressing and flavorless bland tomatoes (unlike the ones in the sauce), but the bread crumbs are crunchy and flavored with a nice blend of herbs like rosemary and thyme.
It’s my day off, so I celebrate this lunch with a nice glass of Sangiovese (Tuscan) wine from their lengthy extensive list of wines from Italy (where else?). The spices and berries berry notes warm my mouth and my tummy permeate my palate, infusing the meal with a layer of flavors savory-ness indescribable too wonderful for words. I moan in culinary ecstasy – to myself, of course, as I’m not trying to re-create the famous scene from the movie When Harry Met Sally (and wouldn’t work since I didn’t have a Billy Crystal sidekick joining me for lunch) where Meg Ryan’s character has an “orgasm” over a turkey sandwich. As the famous line goes, I’ll have what she’s having!
So here it is…an exercise in figuring out which words/phrases fit and which don’t. I find as I age I struggle more with this (actually I think it’s because I don’t write as often as I should and my mind is getting soggy), so I need to get off my proverbial ass and write.
Cin Cin! Salute! Chin chin!