Learning on Stage

If you like to cook, you want to experiment. And if you are lucky, you find a way to get comfortable with failure. Hope and redemption lie in the acceptance of falling short of expectations you set for yourself. We had a dinner party last night where I was never really clear about how many people I had to cook for. Sometimes I thought I was cooking for sixteen and sometimes I was cooking for ten. While you might think this really matters, it didn’t seem to. I just knew it was a bunch of fun people and I wanted us to eat well. I spent a few days thinking about what to cook and what evolved was, in my mind, a Mediterranean picnic in the house. I bought trout for fourteen people, orzo makings for thirty, flatbread toppings for twenty, salad for forty, beer for two, and enough wine for the troops in Iraq. I started putting things together at 10:00 in the morning, read two chapters in my new book during a 2:00 p.m. nap, and started up again at 4:00 p.m. Our guests arrived at 6:30 with more wine and a salad bowl big enough for sixty people. I didn’t set the table thinking that we would just loll around, eating and drinking all over the house. But, it became clear when everyone filled his plate that each would seek a place at the dining room table. My husband and I scrambled to find enough chairs for twelve, the actual number coming to dinner. One of the younger guests sat in a low-slung leather chair that barely reached the top of the table; another had to sit in a wooden swivel antique office chair claimed from behind Steve’s drafting table. There were no water glasses. Hey, we had six bottles of wine and prosecco on the dining table. And by the time we were all seated, we couldn’t gesture to make a point. It was tight. My assessment of the meal, early on, was that the trout was scary to look at, but the sauce divine. The flatbread with Italian cheeses, basil, and sun-dried tomatoes—a little dry. The orzo was tasty, but could have been warmer. The salad with champagne vinaigrette was a welcome break in all of the richness of the meal. The frozen yogurt dessert with butter pecan sauce was the clear winner. But, when I put my critic back in the closet, I loved the entire meal. The conversation and laughter was generous, each guest unique in his own way. It couldn’t have been better if an azure blue Mediterranean had really been sloshing at our feet. The evening reminded me of a Cajun story where a young man tell his mother he wants to become a famous French musician. "But," his mother states emphatically, “ton francais est pas trop bon. Your French is not very good.” “That’s OK,” he says, “I can learn on stage.” And that’s what I did last night.

Tomato Chicken Orzo
(for 4)

4 chicken sausages (I used basil and parmesan sausage, but grilled/roasted chicken pieces work very well, too)
½ cup Chevre cheese
1 14oz. can of chopped Italian tomatoes
2-3 Tablespoons of fresh oregano
1 Tablespoon garlic, minced
1 cup dried orzo
1-2 Tablespoon olive oil
salt & pepper

Place sausages on baking tray and roast in oven at 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes. Cook orzo in boiling water until done. Remove sausage from oven and slice in thin pieces. In a large skillet, heat olive oil and sauté garlic. Add sausage, tomatoes with their liquid, and fresh oregano. Cook down liquid for 15 minutes. Remove from heat, add cook orzo, goat cheese, salt and pepper to taste. Serve with grilled meats, flatbread, and greens and tangerine salad.