letters
to an unknown audience
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~
Beyond the Glass/  /January 02, 2005

This one restaurant seemed a fine dark place, just shrouded by its windows. I stepped inside and found myself in Willy Wonka's factory for dining experience: small tables were laid with napkins in ornate white patterns. Women removed tawny coats with their sharp furry frillings and set them in neat but un-fussy piles by the carved umbrella stand. Waiters in white aprons spun past with demitasse cups, and the cook was just visible, working dilligently through a small window. The dull din of talk kept every conversation private, each pair or triple of diners was lit closely with miniature spotlights, hung from delicate steel cords just over their heads, and the wall, from the woodwork to the windows, was washed a sweet auburn. Wanting a dynamic view of what passersby might come, I took a single seat at the window counter, and folded my hat to one side. I breathed deep in the pleasantries of the waiter's recitation, and after ordering, set my menu down, to feast my eyes outdoors. All throughout this I had the vague sense that I had forgotten something, as when you are walking around looking for your hat and keys and, finding your keys, proceed out the door but asking yourself whether you had phoned the bank.

But soon the salad came, which was mercifully light on the ever-present lettuce but gill-filled with walnuts, almonds, fresh and sun-dried tomatoes, obscure and obscene cheeses, and a generous helping of sesame-tahini-and-honey dressing. I devoured it in due course. Next came a swift, hot bowl of soup: thick with lentils and squash and softened by hours on the stove.

At long last came that most momentous of arrivals, the main course, a sincere concoction of mahi, caked finely with small amounts of orange-soy sauce and deft grantings of cheese, and like a milkshake of old, it was capitated with a gracious red cherry—dessert in advance. As I shovelled the last forkful in of this delicious, happy meal, I looked up and through the window realized with a start what I'd been missing all along: my love was beyond the glass.

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