Cook up and Wrap up

Friends, greetings from New York, which recently were from Brussels, Belgium, and soon will come from the Dominican Republic, from your good friend Sarah.  I have not had the quietness of mind to catch you up on things, because my head a bit of a blur, so much is changing so fast.  My time with this Kitchen has come to an end and is wrapping up.  We’ll get to that in a little bit.

 

First and foremost, I cooked for my Chef and my Kitchen team, with lots of fumbles along the way (that tends to happen when you do not cook with your usual ingredients with your usual equipment in your usual Kitchen).  It was not spectacular, but it was also not terrible.  I wish it had more spice, including ancho chilies, and I wish I could have hosted them all at my house, with tubs of ice cold beer and tequila shots and a whole spread of chorizo queso, esquites (corn with lime, chilie and mayo), dirty rice, and tres leches cake, but I did the best I could, and it turned out alright. 

 

My favorite moment was when the people from southern California stood---STOOD---over the food while eating—eating so fast that they did not want to move out of the way just so that they could make another taco al pastor as soon as they were done with the previous one.  I loved hearing them say that it reminded them of how they ate in southern California, which is exactly the flavor profile and presentation I was going for.  This food is what I desperately crave and miss and love when traveling so far away so often, and it is always the first meal I have when I get back to the US.  They said it was just what they wanted at that moment, as they ate and ate and ate, contentedly.  Making people happy makes me happy, and that did, after a day being a bundle of nerves and me learning a whole lot along the way.

 

The most important part of the story, though, the best part, the part I will always remember and hold as one of my very favorite memories is the part where I realized just how much my Sous Chefs cared about me.  They intimidate me, and I respect the hell out of them, but mostly, I try to stay out of their way and do what they tell me.  Until you step out of the world where you are known as one of the best and insert yourself into one of the worlds where, next to everyone else, you are one of the worst (and I was and am, compared to them), you will not understand how it felt to try to just….cook…and…be…while they watched over me at every moment.  These Chefs are the people who run the Kitchen to make Executive Chef’s vision happen.  They worked very hard to earn their spots, and these are the people who test out recipe ideas for the next menu iterations, for Chef’s tasting and decisions about what you will be eating next when you come in to dine.  Their vision is what ends up on the plate when you are all out there having dates and birthdays, business deals and anniversaries.  These Chefs are some of the best Sous Chefs I know.

 

I watch them---how they teach others, how they make the exact same dishes but each with their own style.  I listen to how they encourage or scold people.  I listen to how they teach Kitchen rules, prioritization, how to manage things and prepare for the moments of the hardest pressures.  I watch how they navigate the ‘push,’ which is the time in the Kitchen when all of the orders come in at once.  I watch how they use every spare moment and resource to get as much prepared as possible, because it seems we never, ever have enough time, no matter how many people are in the Kitchen each day.  It always feels a bit like a breathless rush to get everything done, all day, every day.

 

One Chef is the tougher guy, the perfectionist who is a driver but is a total softie inside and sings songs in the Kitchen when he’s in a happy mood.  One is the more laid back listener whose smile lights up the Kitchen just like one of my very best Friend’s little brothers.  When someone has a bad day, he is the guy who makes them feel calm again and brings them back into the workflow that we need in order to keep up with the pace. 

 

One is the guy who can make a joke through the most intense moments, to keep it light while knocking things out of the park, no matter how tense they get.  He has become one of the best Friends I have in the Kitchen, and I am lucky for that.  One guy is more intense than I know what to do with, because being excellent is easy to him and I am a peewee hockey player next to this pro.  One is more quiet than others but can step it up and lead with his big voice that everyone respects and listens to.  He always helps me out, no matter how busy he is, explaining things and answering my questions.  One is quiet also, but in a different way, getting his work done with a nudge and a look, but never raising his voice and using very few words.  One oversees Pastry—a team that takes exceptional precision and repetition and perfection.  One is the leader of all of them, second only to Chef, an incredible teacher about the whole scene from cleaning to prep area organization to consistency.  It’s her voice I hear in my head with good advice on how to do things ‘right’ no matter which Kitchen I am in.  She is tough and fair and funny and kind, and she works so hard to make sure we are all the most excellent we can be.  I am going to miss all them very much, more than I ever realized, they have become such an influential imprint on my world here in New York.

 

This team is so talented, so heads and shoulders above anything I will ever be, and they helped me and took time for me, as always, even though technically, they would not do this when a stage cooks for Chef.  When you cook for Chef in a Kitchen, you do it to prove yourself as you apply or audition for a spot in the Kitchen.  As I have said a million times before, I do not want to be a Chef, but I love learning from them.  It was unusual that I would be cooking, but if Chef wants me to cook or clean or chop vegetables, I do it, because he is my Chef, and my job is to make him happy and help him shine.

 

I was nervous to cook for him, because although I have cooked for all of you how many times over, I knew nothing I made would be impressive or even ‘good enough.’  Believe me, it was a thrill when he just tasted the guacamole and declared it ‘good,’ because this was incredibly high praise for me, on something so simple, from a guy with creativity and flair, toughness and stamina and leadership in a way I will never have.  I was nervous as hell, not because he would yell at me, but because I did not want to disappoint him.  I am always, always incredibly mindful about Kitchen costs and inventory, and I knew it was a special thing for them to order special things in just for me to cook.  I also not only did not want to disappoint him, but I wanted to take good care of him and all my Sous Chefs, because I am a giver, a caretaker, and I always do whatever I can to take such good care of all my Chefs, everywhere.

 

I had not been trained on all this Kitchen’s commercial equipment, and I flailed a few times in the process as I prepped and cooked.  They were all sweet to me, though, and every one of those Sous Chefs contributed a little something to help me out as I tried to track down and adjust ingredients and change preparation technique on the fly.  They did not have to help me, but they did, because they are just really outstanding people who care about me more than I realized, in addition to just how much they care for each other and that Kitchen.  One of them said, “I am not going to let you fail,” and I knew I could trust him.  Knowing that you have the space to fail sometimes gives people just the confidence they need, knowing there is a safety net nearby who will help you get it right, and I had that.

 

It is a gift to be able to be part of that team, even for a little while, and I never took it for granted.  I have learned even more than I thought I would about coaching people under pressure in my medical world by watching these Chefs, but more importantly, I made Friends with some really cool people….people who intimidate the hell out of me in the Kitchen, but I suppose I would intimidate the hell out of them in the operating room or at a conference.  I was nervous, but I was ready, and no matter the emotional stress that was going on about my family back home, with my sister who was unexpectedly very sick, I was not going to miss this chance to cook.  It was now or never.

 

I cooked, and I prepped:  pico de gallo, guacamole with lime and salt and onion and cilantro.  I pickled onions in red wine vinegar and sugar, and I cut fresh pineapple to be the perfect size.  I pulled the perfect leaves off the cilantro, and I sliced the radishes and chilled them on ice water.  I marinated, roasted, shredded and sauced the meat, and I seared the tortillas on the hot commercial cooktop after one of my Sous Chefs taught me how to do that.  I laid everything out just right so that Chef could see everything organized and appetizing.  I made things look clean and nice and allowed enough flex to accommodate multiple Chefs’ many ideas on how things should be done.  Let’s just say that when you decide to cook something surrounded by some of the most talented Chefs, they all have incredibly good ideas---and all of them are different.  I swear I could have talked to all of them for about 4 hours only on the preparation ideas of tacos al pastor, something I have made dozens of times for all of you in Belgium and the US. 

 

Here is a picture not from our Kitchen, and not of tacos al pastor, because I am not allowed to take pictures there, but from even better tacos than I make.  This gives you an idea, though, of how a good picture can make you…hungry.

It all turned out ok—not spectacular, but not terrible.  I did not start any fires, I did not burn myself, and even though I was overwhelmed to be cooking with those hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment, I really loved cooking for them all.  They take good care of me, and it is important that I do my part to give back.  We ate together at the end of Service, with a special set up for Chef to eat first, when all orders had been sent into the Kitchen and it was time to start clean-up for the night.  By then, Chef, and everyone else, too, are hungry, really hungry, and I bet that helped them enjoy the food more, too.  I’ll take what I can get J

 

Chef tried it, announced that it was ‘good’ which is the highest praise I could hope for, since he is 3 Michelin star quality.  He had seconds, which also made me happy, and he gave me tips, of course, on how it could be even better next time.  It was really nice, having this 1:1 time with these Chefs, and it will be one of my favorite memories.

 

After this meal together, I helped clean the Kitchen, and then I went home to pack for my trip back to Brussels, for an extremely short notice business trip.  Business is booming, and this means changes are once again ahead.  I do not get paid, and I do not get any credits for being a student Chef, and my other work in medical research is what pays the bills.  When my clients need me for something related to patient safety that is urgent, I need to jump to help them, because we are under crunch time.

 

This change also unfortunately meant that I could only stage in this Kitchen one day a week instead of two, and after talking it over with Chef, it did not make sense to have me in that Kitchen one day a week, when there were culinary students who needed time and space and credits earned, in the space I was taking up.  Those students needed the opportunity to learn and grow and be taught by these Chefs, instead of me, since they were going to be Real Chefs.  My dream of being there for a year ended up being about 3 months, but those 3 months are priceless to me.  Those 3 months taught me more about coaching under pressure and about excellence in a whole new way that not many people get the chance to learn.  Those 3 months also gave me a lot of new Friends I would not have otherwise met, and that is the best gift of all.

 

I will miss this team of Chefs very, very much.  They did not have to welcome me or let me be part of their team.  They did not have to be kind to me.  They did not have to cut me slack on the days that they did.  They did not have to make room for me or teach me or help me or be patient, but they did, and they were, every single day.  I am going to miss them, and I am going to miss that Kitchen, so very much.  There will not ever be a day when I think about New York without quietly smiling to myself and shaking my head about this little adventure I have had with them---this incredibly hard choice I did not have to make in order prove to myself something I did not need to re-learn yet chose to re-learn. 

 

I did not have to be back on the bottom, but I did it.  I did not have to put myself in the place of being the worst, but I am comfortable being uncomfortable, and this helped me find balance in the rest of my life, too, which is exactly what I wanted and needed.  I did not have to prep thousands of goddamn Brussels sprouts and heads of cauliflower and white balsamic vinaigrette and lemon oil and all the other things I learned, but I did it, we did, together, because for these few months, I worked alongside one of the very best Kitchen teams in the world, and I loved every minute.  How lucky I am, for that gift of adventure, for these people.  They made my welcome to New York so very happy and got me started, here, in this new third place to call home.

 

I love this team of Chefs.  I love this Kitchen.  I will always be grateful for this time with them, and I will take the good things they taught me to the next place I start at in a couple of weeks, the place I will learn all the same things all over again.  I can hardly wait.

 

 

Friends, today I write to you from New York, soon to be the Dominican Republic, because your good friend Sarah just went through a lot of big changes and a lot of back to back 18-20 hour days, and I need a rest.  Finally, I feel like I can take one, but I will be thinking, always, on how to make that dinner even better the next time.

 

Always take good care of the people who take good care of you, because we are all so busy, and taking time for people we love shows just how much we care, too, and I do, very, very much.

 

Love from New York,

Your Good Friend Sarah

Performance Anxiety

Friends, good morning from chilly New York City, where your good friend Sarah is once again getting ready to work at the restaurant today.  I am up early, yet again, preparing for my business trip to Belgium, working on project plans and budgets for my new medical research project, along with struggling with performance anxiety. 

 

I do not have performance anxiety of erectile dysfunction, Friends, God knows that is not the case, especially thanks to the French luvaahhhh of mine, and the fact that I am not a man, (duh..just ask anyone who has to move past me in a teeny tiny Kitchen as they apologize for not being able to get past that chest of mine without at least 2-3 seconds of faux molestation as we pass each other and cannot help but laugh about it…) but today I do indeed have Kitchen Performance Anxiety.

 

Today is the day I have to cook for Chef and the Sous Chefs. I feel sick, the anxiety is so strong, and I do not want to do this, much as I respect him and these Chef teams and am so grateful to be there, in that Kitchen, learning.

 

I considered quitting, just so I would not have to do this, but I am not a quitter, and this is part of the ritual, the requirement that, for most Chefs, is fun.  Everyone who wants a job, and every stage (student), cooks for Chef.  Usually you get handed a dozen eggs or a protein and told to just…cook.  The expectation is that you will make a perfect French omelette or steak or whatever else you come up with, but it sure as hell better be good.

 

Hearing the stories of my Chef teachers is intimidating, as they make 4 preparations of mushrooms and present a dish that is unbelievable in its beauty and taste.  Those Chefs love it—the adrenaline and challenge, the competition and peacocking where they get to show their best stuff.  It is fun for them.  It is not fun for me.  It makes me feel like I need to vomit, the stress is so overwhelming.  I think it is because I am going to feel so ashamed before, during, and after, because I already do feel that way.  I do not think any of those Chefs, so talented and so much younger and fearless than me in that Kitchen, know what it is like to work alongside them and feel so...inadequate and just how hard this is for me.

 

In my medical job, I, too, would be more than up for the challenge.  I frequently get pulled into conferences and panel discussions with the top governments and experts in the world, and I need no preparation to be an expert, because I researched and helped co-write some of the laws and legal guidance under which we all work.  That unknown actually WOULD be fun for me, because I am easy and confident about it, leading discussions with real-world application and jokes interspersed with the nuances of the legal phrases and ethical requirements.  I have hundreds, thousands of stories about patients and doctors, death and life, challenges and success, because I have years of experience and have seen it all.  I love it—that world of mine, that medical research world of teams and making life better.   I love it so much, every day, and I needed to find a way to constantly re-learn it all, the mindset of being the learner, the beginner, in order to be an even better teacher and professor and leader.  This is why I chose to be in the Kitchen, where I am the worst.

 

I put myself in this position of being the worst, in the Kitchen---and not just any Kitchen, one of THE Kitchens, on purpose, because they are the best.  That is not an easy place to be, and I take it seriously.  I watch people who are excellent, to see what they do with it, when they finally achieve all that they wanted.  I watch to see if they blow it, if the pressure of being excellent makes them do stupid things and choose bad Friends to trust, if they go broke, if they lose all the things important to them, or if they find some hidden path that helps them stay true to themselves while they figure out where and how to get even better.  I watch to see if they get caught up in one moment or have a vision for the long-term and how to get good and stay good, because I am trying to learn that for myself.

 

The problem is, here, I do not want to be a Chef, and I never will be.  I do not like working on the hot line, under all that pressure, which is why I stay in the background, doing, as one line cook said yesterday, “baby work like garde manger,” which is the part of the Kitchen that makes all the lovely starters and salads—the place I feel the happiest, the most quiet, while part of the team.  This is where I am my happiest, my most comfortable, because I get to be more in the background, the place that sets up the dinner experience as the introduction, the part of the Kitchen that preps things for other Chefs, so that they can take the lead and shine while I support them, which is what makes me happiest.

 

I come to these Kitchens to watch and learn how to be a better teacher, but my real job is being next to a doctor who is performing a procedure, or leading the team that manages all the clinical data, or being there when a patient hears that they have cancer.  That, believe it or not, is where I am my most comfortable.  That is where I now spend Wednesdays---with patients dealing with infertility and incontinence, cancer, pelvic pain, and erectile dysfunction, which can be its own sort of performance anxiety if it is all in your head and not due to a physical cause. 

 

Maybe that is how I need to look at this.  Maybe I need to look at this situation as if it is just performance anxiety that is all in my head, just like the young guys looking for Viagra or Levitra samples at the urology clinic, even though there is no physical reason they need it. 

 

Hm.  I wonder if there is a Viagra or Levitra for Kitchen performance anxiety.  I think it’s called bourbon.  Bourbon is not allowed when working on the line, obviously, but what if I can find something that snaps me out of my head telling me I am terrible and instead can find a way to just trust myself that it will be ok.  Maybe I will bring with me a little sample of Levitra one of my doctors gave me as a joke, to keep in my pocket, to just reach for it and touch the bottle as I work through my own performance anxiety here and prove to myself and to Chef that I am not perfect, but I do ok, I perform just fine under pressure.  Hm.  This just might be the best idea I have had all day.  I am going to do this, don’t think I won’t, but promise you won’t tell Chef about it, ok?  I am going to get enough shit about what I cook today without getting a look of “What the hell did you bring into my Kitchen you crazy girl you?” from Chef.

 

The Chefs I work with are excellent---some of the best in the world, and I know that whatever I do, it will never be good enough, there will always be criticism, and that is all part of it, the experience, the hazing.  I do not feel joy or some bravado/competitive nature about this cooking for this team, even though I feel an incredibly strong urge to always take good care of them as my Chefs and teachers.  I will never impress them with my technique or skill, but feedback and coaching is what I am there for, and so I will do my best to just…perform, no matter how anxious I am.  

 

Friends, today I do not feel excited to cook, which is new for me.  I feel stupid and inadequate, but maybe, just like my patients, just knowing that in the front pocket of the medical scrubs which I wear under my Chef coat, that I will have this Levitra, this silly little token of my other world, my fearless world, right next to me, like a secret power, that I just might get through it after all, and it might turn out to be a delicious performance after all.

 

Wish me luck, Friends, because today is the day, and I only have one sample, so I’d better get it right.

 

With love from New York, soon to be Brussels Belgium,

Your Good Friend Sarah



Per se, per me

Friends, good morning from beautifully sunny New York City, from your good friend Sarah, who is STILL full from dinner on Friday night at per se.  I am going to tell you about per se, per me, because one of my restaurant friends was able to get us reservations after I told him, just as I tell all my chefs, to pick a spot he really wanted to try, so that I could check out Bucket List restaurants. 

 

Most of my chefs have blown off my dinner offers, for whatever reasons they have, which frustrates the hell out of me, because this is a generous offer on my part, and back home we all come together as Family as we share dining experiences.  I do not always understand this New York second guessing that every time someone is nice there is a moment of trying to figure out what their angle is and what they want from you.  Is this place that jaded that even the sweetest idea has to be tainted with even the question of motives?  Please, God, may I never take that part of New York into my personality, because that is the saddest thing about my time here. 

 

One of the biggest questions I struggle with here is:  how much happiness do New Yorkers miss because they are worried about what other people think?  It is the most sad thing I see here, and I see it often. 

 

That said, I think I am a fairly fantastic dinner companion, and I have an expense account that was purposefully set up for dinners just like these.  This dinner was one of the Must Do experiences of New York I have been waiting to have for years.  The problem is, I do not know enough people yet, in New York, who are excellent at the food scene, to go enjoy these things with and to have the kinds of conversations about presentation and nuance that make that whole dinner experience so personal and thrilling for me.  Cue Justin, my colleague, whom I will never, ever date or have any sort of affection with, but who is the most perfect, polished, dinner non-date a girl could hope for.

 

Justin manages the dining room at one of my favorite restaurants.  We did not know each other very well prior to this dinner, but we respected and appreciated each other’s restaurant knowledge.  At one point, when I was talking to one of my Chefs who gives me a lot of talk about ‘yes, we’ll have dinner’ and then never follows through, I turned to Justin and said, “Hey, would you be able to get me a reservation at per se, and if you do, do you want to go to dinner with me because I do not know many people here in NYC?  I’ll pick up the tab, I just need a dinner companion.”  Chef turned around pretty quickly, with that, saying, "Wait, you're going to per se?"  I nodded, impatiently, saying with my face, "Ah, yeah.  I wasn't kidding," while not saying any words.

 

I knew Justin and I would have a great experience when he replied, “Absolutely!  It’s on my Bucket List, too!”  And voila, he got us a reservation at a perfect time on a Friday night, and I met him at per se after a date with a hedge fund manager.  Justin is easy to have dinner with, a pleasure to have dinner with, because there is no date-ish tension---we’re not Friends like that, but he knows how to be a Man (with a capital M) at dinner with a woman who wants to be looked after, and he made sure I had the dinner I hoped for. 

 

We are comfortable dinner companions, and we eat/experience restaurants---excellent restaurants-- the same way: try it all, ALL of it, and be fully aware and grateful for the experience of the décor, the wine, the grain of the wood, the Cristofle accoutrements that held the salt selection, the wine bottles, the macaroons. 

 

 

I think Justin, who has never quite seen me as sometimes bigger than life Sarah In The Dining Room form, was surprised at how comfortable I immediately was with the front of house staff and how open I am about how I feel and what I think.  I am not a typical diner, I am Sarah, and I am ridiculous while polished, charming while pushing the boundaries of how close I can get with the restaurant staff to see how much they want to be part of the whole experience.  I love a restaurant that realizes I am not a stuffy guest but a guest who is in on both the perfection of the experience as well as the warm relationships one can have with special places:  incredibly grateful for and in tune with and aware of their perfect service, perfect menu, and all the hard work put in, but I am also just Sarah, a girl who is comfortable with her imperfect self and will talk to them, bring them into my world, immediately, like people I love best.  In restaurants, if you are Family, you have a different rapport, immediately, and I had that here.  That team, and that dinner, and those Chefs, gave me one of the very best dining experiences of my life.  I miss home. I miss being connected to people, and I needed that and had that there, that night, and I will always be grateful.

 

There is a unique intimacy, in dinners like these, between appreciative diners and front of the house staff and Chefs that is not sexual, is not about love yet still has a sweet affection, and is about deep connection and appreciation and something I never can explain in words but only gestures and facial expressions of joy and togetherness and words and phrases that combine multiple languages.  The best way to describe it is something I said to Justin, (to his shock, which is fantastic, because he sees and hears it all in his job, and I love it that I shocked him).  Over the truffle tart with cauliflower crème and puff pastry, which we split, (since we tried every single upgrade option on the menu along with the other choices, in order to try them all,) I took this perfect last bite of my half, then pointed my fork at him and said, “You and I will never, ever be intimate, but sharing this dish honest to God is about the closest we will get.”  And we laughed about it, because that is a ridiculous thing to say that is not polished or professional, but I can say it, because I am Sarah, and I tell the truth, and he knew exactly what I meant.  This is how dinners with people who understand food are.  If you do not understand the experience of dining, you miss the whole point of the joke and the actual reality behind it.

 

 

 

 

Can I just tell you how nice it is to have male Friends to joke with like that in my life again? I miss that so much about back home---the ease of which my man Friends and I can have dinner with zero expectation of affection—because that is not the intent or fit in our Friendship, but still have a perfect non-date?  I love having dinner with my girlfriends, but that is a different experience, and I miss my man Friends, so much, because there is a different sweetness in Friendships between men and women, and I need both my excellent girlfriends and I need my man Friends, too. I do not have many in New York yet, though I am doing my part.

 

Having dinner at per se with Justin is equivalent to going to a gallery with someone who is an art curator---he gets it.  I do not have to explain the difference between coriander and parsley, Hawaiian red salts versus fleur se sel and which goes better with foie gras.  We both understood that this dinner was special, and this dinner was meant to try as much as possible, for the experience, not just for sustenance.  In other words, he was the best non-date for dinner I could ask for, and we did it UP that night.  Here are some of the courses that we had, along with the views of the fireplace, the dining room, and the staff.

 

 

 Here is Francis with the selection of petit fours / mignardises....which they boxed up for us at the end of the meal, to take home.

 

 

Per se is sheer elegance, from design to front of the house dining team manners and phrases to the execution of the food.  I love per se not just because of the food, but because they truly understand Flow.  This place had a fire within a month or so of opening, and this gave them the chance to redesign and tweak Kitchen walkways and passages of dirty dishes between Chefs and Porters (New York’s fancy word for dishwashers).  They set up individual blast freezers and coolers, warming ‘drawers’ (cabinets), a separate Kitchen specifically for Private Dining, and multiple offices for Chef and the teams who manage the entire operation.  One of the most lovely parts of the night was the private tour they gave us of the Kitchen.  There were no rules about pictures. There were no odd, tightly-controlled PR boundaries and corporate here’s-how-you-must-portray-us expectations in place.  They have confidence in themselves, and they let me be as happy as a kid meeting Santa as I met those Chefs and toured that Kitchen, taking pictures.  I felt a trust from them that let me feel like part of the team, part of the intimate experience that, for me, is Family.  This Kitchen is special, is remarkable in its design, which I go on about for hours as I compare it to tweaks we need to make to surgical operating rooms.  It is not just the building, the stainless steel and tile, but also its people, who were warm and kind and non-pretentious in their excellence and their welcoming me to be exactly myself.  That self of mine, of course, is one that takes pictures, which I will share with you here.

 

Note the first ticket, the autograph section of the wall from Chef we all look up to as one of the best Chefs, ever. 

 

 

Note the cookbook collection from Chef Eli, which almost matches mine (though he puts his to much better use, ahem).

 

 

Note the thoughtful and immaculate dry storage, side pastry and prep kitchens and the peppers drying on string, just like I do at home. 

 

Note the private dining Kitchens and the ease of flow for people walking not just between the noisy Kitchen, in transition to the tranquility of the dining room, (a purposeful, psychological design factor—bravo!) but also the Flow of the Kitchen, which is open and circular, always, for ease of traffic and connectivity between all of the roles of the Kitchen, from Chef to chefs, to cooks to porters.  Brilliant.

 

We had an incredible table with a view of Columbus Circle and the fireplace.  They could have put us up in the back, but no, they treated us like Family, like special guests, and it felt like we were, because we truly were warmly welcomed, with no New York bullshit posturing included on the side.  It was real, it was warm, it was silly and affectionately connected with the Kitchen, and it was a perfect set of courses and wine.

 

 

 

I had the best dinner of my life that night at per se.  I will forever be grateful for this experience, this restaurant, and to Justin for securing the reservation and just letting me be myself, my Sarah self, with the dining and Kitchen teams, and for being a charming, thoughtful Friend who made me feel more at home, here, finally.  This is exactly what I hoped for and needed, and I will happily remember this story, this experience, always, as not just larger than life (which it was), but also with quietly intentional warmth and welcome, care and thought, respect and appreciation. Mostly, though, it reminded me of home, which puts a lump in my throat today as I miss my Friends back home, who I always have these dinners with, terribly, so very much, even as I love New York.  I will find my place here, I will settle in, and I am settling in, but some days, it is just nice to be taken care of, and I was.

 

Wishing you all the chance to figure out what makes you feel most at home, and then the chance to go and have it.  We all need it, whether it is per se or our Kitchens back home, and I am happy you could be part of this story of mine, thanks to Justin and this lovely team at this perfect, perfect restaurant.

 

With lots of love from New York, soon to be Brussels, Belgium,

Your Good Friend Sarah

 

 

Oui

Friends, good morning from beautifully sunny New York City, soon to be Brussels, Belgium, from your good friend Sarah.

 

I lived in Brussels part- and then full-time for 3 years, and I am really, REALLY looking forward to going back and hugging all the Friends there that I miss so much.  I am also thrilled to have time with my clients in person, as that is critically important, so much so, that I will book a flight just to be there for 72 hours, in order to close final details on a deal, to celebrate things, or to make sure we see each other in person, just to stay connected.  I am also incredibly lucky to have gotten to know excellent men during my time in Brussels, and I am really looking forward to reconnecting with the most important one.  This little trip is for my business, yes and oui, but this little trip is also just for me.

 

There comes a time in life, as a happy, single woman, when you have to choose if you want to be a parent (I do not, but I would make a fine, fine stepmom since I know how NOT to replace the kids’ “real” mum and instead just be another adult in their life who just, simply, loves them).  I adore kids, but I will not be birthing any.  Are we done having that conversation now?  God I hope so.

 

As a single woman you must also decide if you want a husband.  I do not.  This makes most people very uncomfortable, because there is this strange societal expectation that you must be partnered to be happy, ESPECIALLY if you are a woman, and I do not agree with that at all.  I wish more people in my life were NOT partnered and WERE actually happy, come to think of it, but not everyone is able to make those choices, for a variety of reasons, and I understand that, too.  I, however, am happy being single, even as I thoroughly enjoy courtship and connection and am LOVING dating in New York.  That said, I have no desire to get married again.

 

I had a marriage, and it was a mistake on both of our parts, but we owned up to that, and it ended fine.  We certainly don’t hate each other, and we realized we got married too early and were not actually compatible.  I no longer need to be married to be happy, and it turns out, I never did.  I have been lucky to quietly date some of the best men, the most interesting men, I could hope for, and this is because I choose carefully rather than having just anyone take the spot next to me in my life, for a week or a year or a longer chunk of time.  I refuse to be in a relationship that is not actually happy.  I know myself and was brave enough to have those hard conversations with my own self, and because I took the time to really figure out who I am and what I actually want (instead of what everyone else thinks I should want), I am happy, really happy, just as I am.  I even finally had the conversations with my Family to help them adjust to the information that they, too, should stop expecting me to have someone to bring home and pose with me in pictures, and that it is up to my siblings to provide the nieces and nephews and grandchildren, because I will not be bringing anyone home as my partner or husband.  I simply do not want that.

 

Some people in my life want, demand, even, explanations for my choices, because my choices confuse them and perhaps present to them a reality they did not consider as they, too figured out their path of what makes them happy.  I upset the apple cart in the way I live sometimes, but I do not have to explain myself to anyone.  Sometimes I give a flip answer, pointedly letting them know it is none of their business who I sleep with or if I do and whether or not we love each other for realz or what role we have in each other’s lives.  I am a strong, independent woman who has ideas about how life should be, and I do not expect anyone---Friends or luvaahhhs or boyfriends or my previous husband, to understand or accommodate or fit.  I do not need someone to fit, because these choices are mine as Sarah, not made for anyone but me, and I am happy just as I am.  Sure, sure, it might be nice to have someone to take to the company holiday party or on vacation, but I also like to do those things with lots of different people or mostly, by myself.  I like the freedom of it all.  I like the looking forward to seeing each other instead of living on top of each other in a small space with the simple goal of raising offspring.  That never appealed to me, except if there was space in between for us to also have time alone together, and time for me, by myself, my happy little self.  Which brings me back to Brussels.

 

Brussels is the place where I figured all of this out and got not only comfortable with it, but relieved and happy with that knowledge that I was not like everyone else.  Every time I tried to be like everyone else I was incredibly unhappy.  I cannot be that and still be Sarah, and so I stopped trying to be anything but me.  I will always love Belgium because I met the most important people in my life who helped me figure that out, and this trip back will reconnect me with many of them, but one in particular.

 

Today, I look SO forward to seeing one of the favorite men in my life, the man who can just say the WORDS that he wants his hand in mine, over a glass of champagne, whether or not we talk out loud or only look at each other with understanding and love and quiet little laughing as we just….look at each other.  Whether or not we have any future or no future, it does not matter in how we gently love each other, and always will, in a very simple way.  It is not complicated, it has no structure, it is easy and welcoming, warm and thoughtful, always.  Whether or not we have a minute or a night or a lifetime, it does not matter to me, because we have had this time together, these conversations that changed me and my life and helped me find my very own happiness.  Knowing him has changed me, for the better, for always, and he has a very, very special place in my heart.

 

He is imperfect and impetuous, sometimes pouting, sometimes feisty, always clever, always so smart, always so global in his perspective and so authentically himself, which is the most attractive thing about him, to me.  He is French in all the best ways….ridiculously handsome, often direct, exquisitely flirtatious, sometimes aloof, sometimes with the slightest hint of arrogance, but always with a sort of sensual appreciation of all of the simplest pleasures in life---from good linens to how to be excellent at your job in the ‘right’ way, to how to order from a menu, how to be generous of heart, and most wonderfully, exactly how to put his hand on the small of my back as we walk through a restaurant.  God I love that.  That simple gesture of being a man---I just love it.  Nothing makes me feel sexier as a woman than a man who knows how to just BE with me, strong and feisty as I am, too, because God knows I am all those things, and I will not be changing.

 

We always tell each other the truth, and we know that given the choices in life—me here, him there, other big things in careers and life that will always be in the way of us being “actually” together, for realz, it does not matter, it does not change things.  He is adored by many, but I know that I am one of the people he has let into his life, to be close with him, not for always, not consistently (because I would bolt, for sure), but for key moments, which is all that we need.  I feel special with him, and I always have.  He is the one who can see me hurting and hug me from afar, with the perfect words and his perfect mouth, and I love him in a very, very simple way, not some big fabulous way, but a simple, clean way, just for that.  It is not even quite romantic love, it is more a love of an incredibly lovely friendship, and it always will be, no matter what comes or goes.

 

And the best part?  He lets me know that I do the same for him, which is what makes me happiest of all.  Oh, Friends, to be appreciated…is that not what we all want?  Just to be Seen and Heard and appreciated?  Oui.  It’s so simple, so very, very simple.  Nothing lights me up like that, nothing, and this is why I am so insistent that you and I have those conversations about life and what you REALLY feel instead of what you tell people you feel.  That is the only way to actually BE happy, after all.

 

 

I do not need him, I do not need promises or obligations, expectations or rules, and I certainly do not need an agenda of when we will see each other again.  I do not want him as a constant, but I want him in my life, always, just far enough and close enough, because he and I have that intangible lovely connection that only comes around once in a while.  It is not just sex.  It is not just cleverness.  It is not just knowing how to tease each other or soothe each other or be present at moments that are important, like the loss of a parent, when each of us reaches out to the other before anyone else, only to hear 8 words of comfort and no more:  “I am thinking of you and sending strength” in a way that no one else could comfort in that horrible, stripped down vulnerable place of feeling…lost.  It is humanity in its most simple form, of I See You and I Understand You and I Care About You in the way that you need, when you need it, no questions asked.  We do that for each other, not every day, because we do not rely on each other for the every day, but we know the other is there, to be supportive, always.  We chose not to have a lifetime together, and that was the best decision we could have made, because it gave us what I needed after all, and that is my freedom, because it turns out I never wanted to be completely partnered anyway.  The thought of being trapped like that…ugh, the anxiety of it all….ech, no thank you, no matter how wonderful he is.

 

I do not need to stay connected to him every day, but when we are connected, it is instant, it is perfect, it is…right, not for always, not forever, not for anything of routine, not as the Man of my Life, but exactly what I want and need at this moment, before I jump into something exquisitely new and potentially wonderful in completely different ways.  We adore each other, and we always have.

 

I am happy as I pack for Brussels and think of how, the moment I land at the airport, he will kiss me immediately, gently, and firmly, all at once, without any words except, “Good flight?” as he takes my luggage and barely even listens for my response of a quick, breathy, “Oui,” before his mouth again finds mine and we lace fingers and have just a few moments together, before I go take on the world, yet again.  He will never be the Man of my Life, because we considered that and talked about that and let that idea go, but we will always have Brussels, and for that, I am happy in exactly the way I hoped and wanted to be.  You see, Friends, sometimes your Prince Charming is not for happily ever after in the way you first thought it would be, but he is there in exactly how he is meant to be, helping you sort out the direction you really wanted to go in the first place, and for that, I am happy and grateful.

 

May we all have people like this in our lives, who help us find ourselves when we are a bit lost and just need a little pointing in the right direction. For a moment or a lifetime, I found my path because of him, and for that, I am grateful and happy today.

 

With lots of love from New York, soon to be Belgium,

Your Good Friend Sarah