I miss the ritual of fine dining. The path through the restaurant, following the maître d, the way the tables are set, the chatter of the guests. Ordering wine while perusing choices. The feel of the menu. The easy banter with the wait staff.
The rhythm of the meal, appetizers, soup, salad, the main course, and then coffee and dessert. The conversation. The laughter floating softly through the dining room.
Both my parents truly enjoyed the ritual, and in some ways it is what kept the fraying threads of family life together for us. Food of all kinds, but dining out in particular.
My mother and I would have a glass of some smoky white wine at the bar before they seated us. We all preferred the salad dressings that included a blue cheese. We liked the chocolate desserts, the richer the better. We liked our coffee strong.
Since my parents have been gone, I have been much less likely to enjoy a meal out, and in recent years, very seldom. I missed it, but always knew it was an option if I really wanted it. A special treat.
But now comes the virus. Eating out like that is impossible, no matter how special the occasion, or great the craving. At first it was fear of getting sick, and now it is that plus short staff, inconsistent hours, and, still fear of Covid for indoor dining.
I am a talented home cook. No matter what the ingredients I am able to transform them into something that both soothes and satisfies. Even so, this does not fill the place in my life held by visiting a truly fine restaurant. I hope the industry survives this crisis, and that I will one day have the pleasure once more.