I like to think that I resemble a duck in the kitchen, floating coolly along while I paddle furiously under the surface. Dinners at the Social Impact House have been a design challenge, the product of countless spreadsheets and surmounting of unexpected hurdles. I’ve spent the last month crafting a book-length piece of academic research; i.e. staring at a screen for fourteen hours a day. Now I’m conceptualizing menus, gutting fish, playing Tetris with produce in the refrigerator, and figuring out what to do when the poultry truck can’t make it up the driveway.
When I eat alone, I usually prepare something stupid like lettuce with a lump of leftover hummus or seven mangoes. I can’t bear to make a lovely meal when I’m by myself because to me, meals are for sharing. I hope that my food tastes good. I hope there will be enough, and that it will be fresh, and that people like it. But those things are secondary. The best part is watching the fellows, mentors, and staff after they have made it through the buffet line, sharing in conversation and communing over a table and generating magic together.
