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| random photo for attention |
Let’s talk food.
Last night I thought it strange that after our first course of soup we were served all vegetables. Then I thought it must be a carryover from “meatless” Friday’s. Well, I was right and I was wrong.
There was a large platter with cauliflower and potatoes, a smaller platter with onion rings. I took a couple because although I enjoy onion rings I don’t usually eat onion rings. Ramona decided I didn’t take enough so she piled three more pieces on my plate AND offered me fresh lemon to squeeze on them.
I thought this odd. I have had them with ketchup but never fresh lemon. I decided to try it. Not bad.
When I was cutting my last piece, I marveled at how easily the onions were cutting and not pulling out of their breading as they often do.
Then it dawned!
We weren’t eating a vegetarian meal. I didn’t just finish onion rings. I had just completed my last piece of Calamari.
Very definitely good with lemon.
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There must be a different cook in the monastery kitchen. The food has been outstanding. For lunch today, we ate rabbit that was cooked in an exquisite sauce that I simply had to clean my plate with a piece of bread. So much for watching calories.
I am glad they don’t do big desserts. Usually fresh fruit and sometimes a form of yogurt.
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| random photo by Soupstock |
The fun comes with the organized chaos. When one arrives here, along with your room key, you are handed the guidelines that include expectations at meals.
We all help with the serving, the cleanup and the setting tables for the next meal.
Just imagine this: there are 30 people eating and 25 get up to help because you feel like you aren’t doing your part if you don’t help. After all, it is in the guidelines.
I find it particularly hilarious when we are setting the tables for next meal. I don’t understand a word of Catalan, the local language. When the Monk is giving instructions, I don’t have a clue. I help in every way I can. When he checks the numbers and decides we will need two more place settings, Someone hurries to get the dishes from the kitchen. Right behind them is someone getting the forks and spoons and yes, we will need soup spoons and of course we will need knives, and someone getting the glasses-always a large and a small-wine, you know, small plates for desert. I don’t understand one word. People hold up forks and call out the Catalan word for me to learn. Is GANIVET a fork or a knife?
I know they all think I am either stupid, under educated or come from a deprived family. In Europe necessity and proximity require several languages. It is not uncommon to have fluency in at least three. They look at me and keep asking “only English?” As if that reality is subject to instant change.
Better add another place setting. Just received a call that a friend is coming for dinner and the entire procession begins again with the bumping and juggling through the single doorway. It is absolutely hilarious. Mostly because everyone takes this task so seriously. I have all I can do to not laugh out loud.
I know I caused looks and stares when I did something that wasn’t being done. I carried the full container with forks out to the tables to avoid the repetitive single marching file. I did it again with the container with all of the glasses in it. Then it caught on and now when I go to fetch a drawer of forks or knives. They are already out on the tables and there isn’t much for me to do. That’s when my ‘administrator’ kicks in and inspects all of the tables to be sure that nothing was overlooked.
I haven’t shared the complete picture. While 20 if us are setting the tables the last ten are standing in the middle of the room talking which requires acrobatic skills to get around them. This happens every meal. Oh, I almost forgot, those 10. All have someone they want to talk to. Often that someone is the Monk. Now imagine the center of the room that we are trying to pass through to accomplish our task. It really is hilarious. Tonight, I finally handed the last four GANIVETS to the person blocking my way to the table. My big smile as she looked at me questioning was all the instructions required. Knives made it to the table.
THE LESSON FROM HOLY CHAOS?
Share the work with a smile. More hands make lighter work. You don’t need to know the language if you keep a twinkle in your eye.
If you aren’t into setting the table- MOVE
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