After spending a few months in Spain, numerous weekends country hopping, and days exploring new and exciting cuisines, I am recognizing that my days in Madrid are dwindling. In an attempt to savor the semester I've begun gathering the crumbs of my lessons and experiences in the hopes of piecing together a
morsel to nibble back in the States.
I arrived with no knowledge of Spain, it’s culture or even
who I would be living with for that matter. Going in blind didn’t bother me
because I knew the experience would push me out of my comfort zone. Like any
dive I’ve taken in my life, it was deep. (Actually, I still prefer the ladder method and just thinking of the high dive makes my hands clammy, so maybe that’s a poor
analogy…)
The first lesson I learned here is that Spaniards are
goofballs. They can be dramatic one moment, curious the next and are always
passionate about the food on their plates.
I have adored their beautiful and sometimes stubborn appreciation for
culinary traditions. Watching the manner in which they eat, relishing not only each bite
but also the atmosphere and company surrounding them, has realigned my
perspective of food.
Coming from a strong restaurant background, I have often been
guilty of willing tables to hurry with dragging courses. It’s instinct for me
to think more of the entrees dying in the pass rather than the leisurely pace of
the diners. Spain has taught me the art of lingering. Such importance lies in
the indulgence of a meal, and that cannot be fulfilled without the social
aspect.
With my roommates I’ve shared about hundred dinners, and
they’ve provided me with my second lesson this semester. Like true Spaniards, we’ve
sat at our table long after dropping our forks each night. As our favorite form
of procrastination and arguable the best part of the day, we’ve all grown so
fond of our seats around the table. The thought of the last meal we will share is heart wrenching.
Having to face the reality I leave in a week, the long litany of
“lasts” has inevitably begun. Good-bye will be bittersweet, but I have one last
lesson to comfort me.
In food there’s the power to reconnect. I know if I can take
my nibble of Europe back then I can revisit the experiences, memories and
people of the semester. It would be impossible to taste paella, a crepe or a
sip of cold Hofbräu and not be whisked back to my home in
Madrid, standing at the foot of the Eiffel Tower or sitting on the beer house
benches at Oktoberfest.
And even though it’s only a bite, I know I will bask in the
flavor for a lifetime.
