"At my house".A former head chef at the Hilton (among many other things), Steve wouldn't be exaggerating. He is a great cook.
Dominic and I met Steve more than a year ago at Bethany's Wednesday Night dinner. He is a social butterfly and is always saving seats for his friends. He is stubborn, straight-forward, and he insists that I am too skinny.
We live across the street from Steve but not once did we have him over for a meal, or tea, or anything. I knew that I owed him at least one visit before I left for New York (see "lists" in previous post). It is something I had always wanted to do, but had never done. Why do those types of visits always seem to get pushed out of the way by other "stuff"?
Nonetheless, I went over tonight and Steve had a meal fit for a king on the stove: fried potatoes, mushrooms and a roasted chicken, salad and warm rolls. He taught me how to make gravy with the leftover chicken fat, soy sauce and cornmeal, he told me I needed to apologize less and relax more, and he sat me down at his newspaper-lined table. The newspaper is really an ingenious way to save on laundry. He takes the old community papers and uses them as place mats -- dirty one layer? There are plenty of pages left for the next meal!
Steve and I visited over the carefully planned meal. He told me I shouldn't ask why so much and I told him he should enjoy his view of downtown more often. We complimented the delicious food, discussed the similarities between Greek and Armenian culture (he was insisting I eat more to gain 10 pounds) and in the end started telling each other all the jokes we could remember.
I am certain I would never have met Steve if it weren't for Bethany. I am certain I would not have found Bethany if it weren't for Dominic. It is amazing how people come in and enrich our lives in ways we never knew possible.
