Tuesday, October 16, 2012
on steaks, and other things savored with time
A friend of mine, who I can only describe as epicrazy (as she is definitely crazy about food), told me of a place that was offering a great all-you-can-eat steak deal. She asked me about it, because she knew it was likely near where I lived (not knowing that, the kicker for me was that this place was a 10-minute walk). So on an early Saturday evening, before the night owls came, I decided to see on my own how this bistro’s offering would stack up.
As I started to tuck into my first ‘round’ of 8-ounces, I knew that I needed a cold brew to go with this steak and side salad (which was just ‘dressed’, and not ‘drowning’), and thus the server promptly gave me one, which was great with the meal I was having.
Quietly contemplative halfway through, I noted the changes to the avenue on which I’d been having an outdoor dinner- an avenue I have walked (and eventually driven) through my entire life. Across the street was a spa operated by our neighbors, who’ve been part of a Korean influx that started about 10 years ago; I’d have never imagined having Korean neighbors, and now there are two families on our street alone. Next to it was a spot where stood a bakery that was once one of the handful of cakeshops in the village, before it finally closed early this year, as there are bread shops on almost every block now. The very spot I was dining in has been occupied by a myriad of establishments, such that I’ve already forgotten all of the previous iterations it’s been.
And here I was, a wonderfully marbled chunk of beef in mouth, and cold beer in hand, that I wished right then that my dad could’ve been with me. A steak and a beer were 2 things he was, well, epicrazy about, and if he’d been there, I think he would have been ecstatic enough to have actually suspended his alcohol sabbatical (he had stopped smoking and drinking for his last 15 or so years), and struck up a kampai to good food & drink, to things that have changed so much over time, and to things that just possibly may never. I wasn’t able to have a drink with my dad, and while I can’t regret too much over it, I’m sure it would’ve been something I’d have been proud to have experienced.
I will be back to that bistro, dragging people I hold dear, to enjoy great cuts of artery-clogging beef, with a salad to relieve guilt and a beer to wash it down, watching cars and people go by, having conversations about changes that happen unsuspectingly slowly, and of things that, through it all, remain.
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