The Art of Eating In - Cathy Erway [110]
I began to arrange soup dishes of the lobster risotto shortly afterward. I was so focused on serving everyone that I didn’t get in on much of the table conversation. I was seated all the way at the end of the table, too, beside Thaddeus and across from Karol. Jordan had initially arranged the seating so that each SOS member was next to his or her “date,” but after people started picking up the cards out of curiosity and getting them all mixed up, the seating arrangement got a little confused. Plus, both Jordan and Matt had already forfeited the mission of dating their “dates.” Only Karol was still seated beside hers.
I looked curiously at Morgan, seated across the table. Over the past couple of weeks, we’d exchanged a number of e-mails and tried making plans to meet up, but they’d fallen through due to our different schedules. Still, there were pretty clear indications of flirtation on both sides. I wasn’t picking up on any of it tonight, though. In fact, he seemed more interested in talking to Jordan.
After the risotto, everyone felt they needed to take a break before the next course. Without realizing that five courses plus an amuse-bouche is a lot of food, I’d piled a heaping scoop of risotto on each plate, big enough for a full meal itself. Each was topped with a delicate arrangement of the lobster claw and tail meat, drenched in hot butter, a dollop of crème fraîche, a miniature scoop of caviar, and a sprinkle of fresh fennel fronds. Everyone, including myself, was already stuffed.
Across the table, it looked like conversation had broken down into small groups: Matt and Lauren were chatting up a storm, pointing at photos on one of their cell phones. Kara, François, and Thaddeus, to my left, had lifted themselves onto the couch. I guess kneeling on the floor for an extended period of time isn’t exactly for everyone, especially guys. For a period, we had been talking about the meaning behind the logo on Thaddeus’s T-shirt, but once that question had been sufficiently answered by Thaddeus, conversation dropped to a lull. George was being especially quiet, only talking to Karol in low tones every now and then. Karol, too, was being unusually quiet. And Morgan was still talking to Jordan. All at once, he addressed the group:
“You know what the greatest rock album of all time is?” he said.
“Uhh ... no, what?” said Matt.
There were a few guesses around the table—Nevermind? The White Album? Personally, I had no interest in addressing such ultimatums. I wasn’t sure what context the question had risen from, anyway.
“Appetite for Destruction,” Morgan proclaimed. “By Guns N’ Roses.”
Very slowly, the blank faces around the table began to nod.
“I’m going to plate the next course,” I said, excusing myself from the table.
Clearly, the group wasn’t really gelling in any sort of way. And there was nothing romantic going on, either. Karol had warned me that George was really shy and awkward around strangers, but it didn’t occur to me that he couldn’t make eye contact. At least everyone wasn’t taking turns explaining what he or she did for a living, which was the boring state of conversation at some of the other supper clubs I’d attended. But nobody seemed to be terribly interested in talking to one another, either. Each time a new course was served, Morgan gave a two-minute lecture on the type of wine he’d paired the dish with, where it was made, and how. I got the sense from the lack of conversation afterward that nobody cared terribly much about wines or the subtle art of wine pairing. I was too distracted by hostessing to really think about the notes in the wines I was knocking back myself. I just hoped the main course—and some more wine—might spark up conversation a bit.
“Um, Morgan,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Did you have a different wine to pair the meat dish with?”
“Oh, yes. Right. It’s up on the counter, the red wine,” he said, turning away from Jordan