The dinner was my distinct pleasure to cook. The grilled White King Salmon was oh so fresh (for those of you who are uninitiated in that delicacy, I am so sorry), and the Alaskan Spot Prawns sautéed in a Garlic Lemon Basil Butter, as the sauce, were even fresher. The organic Sunburst Squash roasted in balsamic vinaigrette was tossed with stir fried Garlic Scapes, and the Mixed Brown and Wild Rice Pilaf was invigorated by a Walla Walla Sweet Onion and Shitake Mushroom Duxelle. The starters were fresh Strawberries, Mangoes, Pineapple and Peaches, after all it’s the 4th and you have to keep it light. The dessert; organic Vanilla Bean Ice Cream, Dilettante Dark Chocolate (melted), Pecans and organic Whipped Cream. The dinner was completely divine. One dinner guest was a complete bigot. Whew Laudy, what a fourth! Details of my cultural surprise below the jump.
As some of you have read here, my 82 year old mother (and avid Obama supporter) is recovering from a total knee replacement. Two weeks out from surgery and she is off the walker, on a cane, and not needing me to oversee every step anymore (also no extension seat on the toilet – oh happy day). Since she is not comfortable going any further than a little jaunt out into the garden, I brought the 4th of July party to her. We can see five different fireworks displays from my lovely little cottage east of Seattle (overlooking the water), so I quite often host the 4th. This year my guests were a dear friend and her 87 year old mother who is visiting from out of town. I thought Mom would enjoy having someone around who was her own age. I thought I was being thoughtful.
As is typical when entertaining older people with whom you have little personal dealings it is good to have a movie ready to watch for the awkward time after dinner and before the fireworks. I have the whole home theater thing going so guests often ask to watch a film, even if it hasn’t been suggested. My friend, Tess, had asked me to have a movie or two ready to go, but there were strict instructions as to her mother’s sensibilities - no violence, no blood, no Sci-Fi, and no murder mysteries. I asked what was left, and was told that she liked Emma.
My choice for a lovely afternoon of sweet and inspiring food for thought was Akeela and the Bee. I figured that by the time they got to the wonderful quote on the wall of Laurence Fishburne’s office (the spelling bee coach in the film); it would be a great conversation starter for later. The quote is often attributed to Nelson Mandela, but it turns out that it was originally written by Marianne Williamson and Mandela was quoting her in the speech that has gained so much popularity.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
One of the things I love about Obama is the fact that he is coming from this place. It was very exciting to know that Williamson, herself, was soundly behind Obama. Whether you are aware of, or agree with her writing is a moot point. This one quote speaks for itself. My friend, Tess, owns a metaphysical bookstore and sells Williamson’s work, and since I had recently gotten Tess to add cable to her home in order to pay closer attention to the Obama campaign, I wanted her take on my analogy. We were all basically on the same page, and I thought it would be a nice way to go on to the inevitable political discussion about how this pertained to Obama. I thought it would be a GREAT thought to have running on in your head while watching fireworks. This, along with the killer food, is my idea of subliminal campaigning. But alas, so went the plans of a foodie-political junkie.
As my guests arrived I had Wimbledon on the tube and was glancing occasionally at Nadal’s chiseled arms, but was very busy with cooking. Tess’ mother exclaimed loudly "Oh, I love Wimbledon! This is so exciting!" OK, this is a good start to the day – after all it is a long day. And I have to tell you that listening to 82 and 87 year old women rave about Rafa Nadal’s arms is hilarious, so all was good.
Tess started asking me about the movie, and did I find something that would not offend her mother? As I was about to answer there was a flurry of base-line shots and a sexy Rafa move that reminded me of something Serena Williams would do. I added "You know tomorrow is what is going to be really exciting. It will be great to see the Williams sisters play against each other." Tess’ mother jumped all over me. "Watch those blacks? How can you do that? I have absolutely no interest in anything they could ever do! You know what my husband used to call them?" Wow, I surely had stepped in it and was expecting the usual suspects for racist remarks (I was waiting for monkey). "He used to call them bugs! The way their eyes stick out of their face. Bugs, that’s what they are!"
Everyone in the room froze. My mother stared at me and her jaw dropped. Tess gave me the most plaintiff look I have ever seen. It was a cross between I am completely ashamed and embarrassed, and what the fuck are you going to say to my mother? Ever the diplomat, I diffused the situation by saying. "Well, really, I was completely focusing on the sister angle. After all we are all women who are related to each other here, and I thought being related to your opponent was fascinating."
The relief on Tess’ face was instant. The pride on my mother’s face was huge. I stopped the situation right in it tracks without offending anyone, and without making anyone feel unwelcome in my home. But, as was obvious by everyone else’s reaction, everyone else was offended. There was certainly no way of discussing anything of importance with this woman, and don’t you know that Laurence Fishburne was out of the question. I felt sick.
I know this shit is out there, but it doesn’t walk into my house. Bug? Wow, I didn’t think it was possible to be that insulting. To use a description that implies squashing might be appropriate? What a long night this was going to be.
Again, the subject of what we were going to do after dinner came up....gee, I wonder why. Could it be that no one wanted to be in a position to have to talk? So I gave Tess’ mom the option of choosing the film. She wanted to see Charlie Wilson’s War. You see, this unbelievably racist woman is not just any 87 year old woman. She lived most of her life in Beirut, as her husband (the one with the bug line) was in the Foreign Service. My friend Tess went to High School and University in the Middle East. These were American women of the world. The older version of which carried horrible opinions from years with a husband (who represented our government) in a mindset that is, shall we say, less than diplomatic. Actually, it puts some of the shit we are in now into perfect focus.
OK, Charlie Wilson’s War, I hadn’t seen it yet and was looking forward to the film, so my guests’ choice took precedence. Well, how far into the film do you get before you realize that every other word is "fuck"? This was too funny. Tess’ mom actually started counting. This was a scene right out of Lewis Black’s latest film when he describes the Kennedy Center official counting the number of times he says "fuck" in a routine. Forty-two to be exact. At some point Tess’ mom gave up counting. She winced every time the she heard the word. My mother asked if this was an appropriate film to watch. But, Tess was laughing continuously and Tess’ mother picked the film, so I was completely off the hook - fuck, or no fuck.
Everyone was so tired from all of the fucking that they decided to go home after the film, and skip the fireworks. Thank you Aaron Sorkin! What a writer! And whew Laudy, what a fourth!