FEAST

Course 3

Aaliya began regaling us with stories of past dinners at Chef A’s house as soon as Drew and Laylah went inside.  The longer she talked, the more my internal detente with her faded.  I admit, however, that I marveled at her ability to talk without seeming to breathe.  Was she an athlete or a trained actress?  My mind explored the possibilities as she started in on an anecdote about her love of fish.

When Drew and Laylah joined us again, I fully expected an unsavory smell to accompany them and was pleasantly surprised to discover that wasn’t the case.  Drew was carrying a large platter while Laylah had a stack of plates in her hands along with a small bowl sitting on the top plate.  Laylah set the bowl in front of Dara, then distributed the plates.  As soon as the plates were in front of us, Drew offered what was on the platter to Dara, holding it while she served herself.  He repeated this process with Aaliya, then moved to stand next to me.

I looked at the platter and although my olfactory fears hadn’t been realized, what met my eyes almost made me gasp.  Dozens of tiny eyes were staring up at me.  For a split second, I imagined that those eyes were pleading with me not to eat them, and I was paralyzed.  I didn’t notice the knowing look Drew and Laylah exchanged, nor did I see the look of sympathy that passed between Santiago and Aholien.  I was too busy desperately wishing that I’d told them I was a vegan.

Returning to reality brought the realization that Aaliya hadn’t stopped talking about her fish fandom.  Completely oblivious to my plight, she continued on about how nutritious fish was, these little morsels in particular.

“It’s okay if you want to pass,” I heard Laylah say.  She had resumed her seat and spoke gently to me.  “Kapenta is somewhat of an acquired taste.”

So that’s what the little eyes were called (yes, I know there were small, whole fish on the platter, but all I could think about were the eyes).  My inner struggle was fierce.  Politeness when you’re a guest in someone’s house was the eleventh commandment as far as my parents were concerned.  The height of rudeness was to refuse something offered to you no matter how weird you thought it looked or how bad you thought it smelled.

“It’s okay, really,” I found myself saying.  I gingerly placed two of the small fish on my plate.  That was all I could muster.  I added a generous spoonful of the caramelized onions that surrounded the fish.

Drew finished serving the rest of the table.  He put several fish on his plate and set the platter in front of him.  Dara, meanwhile, had taken some of whatever was in the bowl and passed it to Aaliya who, in turn, passed it to me.  I looked in the bowl and saw a light brownish orange sauce with dark flecks in it.  A faint smell of peanuts floated to my nose.  I assumed it was a dipping sauce and gave myself a large dollop, hoping that it would assist me in getting through this ordeal of fish.

“If it helps, you can cut the heads off,” Laylah offered.

I looked at her gratefully and nodded.  The fish were small, maybe about the size of an average ballpoint pen, so removing the heads didn’t leave much, which was just fine with me.  I pushed the two heads to the very edge of my plate and steeled myself for the first bite.  I maneuvered the remaining part of one fish and some onions onto my fork, then scooped the sauce on top with my spoon.  Breathing deeply, I put the bite into my mouth.

While I can’t honestly say it was enjoyable, that first bite was not nearly as horrifying as I anticipated.  The fish had been fried to a serious crunchiness and there was a slight fishy taste to them, but the sweetness of the onions and sauce diminished it greatly.  There was a definite peanut flavor to the sauce yet I also detected an earthiness that I didn’t normally associate with peanuts.  I rather liked the sauce and I was glad I still had quite a bit left to go with the second fish.

I had been so focused on making sure I was able to swallow what was in my mouth that I momentarily forgot there was more to the evening than little fish eyeballs.  I finished my second (and, thankfully, last) fish, set my fork down next to the plate and wiped my mouth with my napkin.  Having satisfied the commandment of politeness, I was now able to return my attention to what was going on around me.  The sun was beginning to disappear below the horizon and delicate but pleasantly bright string lights winked on.  They were strung across the entire roof of the porch as well as wrapped around the wooden posts that held up the roof.  A warm glow bathed the patio not unlike that in the den.  Although the air was cool, it felt comfortable.  I hadn’t anticipated dining outside, but I was glad I’d worn a sweater and jeans.

Everyone else was still eating, and I didn’t know if that meant they were on second helpings or if they had piled their plates high the first time.  They were all clearly enjoying this course.

Dara leaned forward slightly and caught my attention.  “Not too bad?”

“The sauce was really tasty,” I replied.  “Is it like some kind of Thai peanut sauce?” I asked Laylah.

“There’s peanut butter in it, but it’s mostly bambara groundnuts, along with some garlic and spices,” said Laylah and she continued before I could ask, “Bambara is a legume similar to peanuts but they taste more like a cross between chickpeas and pinto beans.”  That was the earthy taste I had noticed.

“My mom used to make something called Groundnut Stew but she used peanut butter.  I always assumed peanuts were groundnuts,” Dara said.

“Peanuts are groundnuts but they were a late addition to the culinary traditions of Africa,” Drew explained.  “They came to the continent when Spanish conquistadors brought them from South America.  Before that, it was mostly bambara that were used in cooking.”

“I didn’t know peanuts were from South America,” Santiago said to Drew.  “For some reason I thought they were originally from Africa.”

“Nope, the South American continent holds that distinction.  The Spanish brought them to Africa, then Africans brought them to North America.”

“So peanuts came to the U.S. by way of South America by way of Spain by way of Africa.”  Santiago drew imaginary geographical lines.  “That’s quite a journey.”

Drew nodded.  “You’ll find that a lot of foods took similar circuitous routes.”

I’d never really contemplated where my food came from, and what Drew said made me pause and think.  I wondered how many other foods I took for granted had such a crazy history.  I remembered the fish heads on my plate and asked, “Where did these little fish come from?”

“They’re imported from the district of Lake Tanganyika that’s found in Zambia,” Drew said.

“I can’t imagine anyone not liking kapenta,” Aaliya commented rather loudly.  “And this—” she indicated what was still on her plate, “this is simply wonderful!  Perfectly crisp, and the sauce, well, I don’t think my own mother could have done any better.  My compliments to Chef A!”  She put another bite in her mouth.

“I remember you mentioning that your mother used to make kapenta,” Laylah said, giving Aaliya another one of those unreadable looks.

“All my growing up years, yes,” Aaliya confirmed.  “I used to get so excited when she would come home with those packages of dried sardines, I can tell you.”  Something changed slightly as she continued, her voice picking up an almost Southern lilt.  “The smell in the house while they were soaking was just something awful, but Mama knew that they would taste worse than they smelled if you didn’t soak them first.  I can still hear the oil popping in the pan while she fried them up with onions and peppers.  No matter where we found ourselves, she would always make sure we had our kapenta.”

“Oh, did you move around a lot?” asked Dara.

Aaliya didn’t say anything right away.  “My mother always did what she had to do,” was her eventual response.

I made a furtive attempt to look at her face, but I was wildly unsuccessful since I was sitting right next to her.  The manner in which her comment was delivered didn’t invited further questioning, but my curiosity was piqued.  Not being one to press someone who clearly didn’t desire to give more information, I remained silent.  I admit to being more than a little glad, though, when Dara boldly went where I dared to tread.

“My dad was in the Air Force, so we lived in a lot of places.  It was kinda hard, moving so much.  Was your dad in the military, too?”

“He was not.”

Most people would probably have given up upon hearing the steel in Aaliya’s voice, but I had to admire Dara’s intrepidity as she continued, “So what made you have to move a lot?”

“I never said we moved a lot,” Aaliya said with even more steeliness.

I felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, which was quite a feat since we were sitting outside.  Santiago squirmed in his chair and Aholien’s eyes were glued to the table.  Drew looked at Dara and Laylah leaned forward on the table as if she was preparing to say something.  My heart went out to my friend as I heard her attempt an apology.

“I’m sorry, I thought that’s what you meant when you said—” Dara began.

“I merely meant that whatever our circumstances, my mother always knew how to lift our spirits.  And that was usually with kapenta.”  Her mother may have lifted her spirits, but apparently she didn’t teach her daughter that in most cases it’s considered impolite to interrupt people while they’re speaking.

“Those circumstances must have been pretty difficult,” Laylah said.  She had leaned back in her chair and although her tone was very even, I sensed that there was more bubbling just beneath the surface.  Or maybe I was just projecting.

“Adultery is always difficult,” Aaliya stated without looking at Laylah.

I attempted another not impolite stare at Aaliya.  Realizing it wasn’t going to happen, I had to satisfy my curiosity by observing the reactions of the others at the table.  Drew and Santiago regarded Aaliya with expressions of compassion while Aholien looked at her briefly before returning his eyes to the table.  Laylah maintained her inscrutable expression.

Although I couldn’t see her, I knew Dara well enough to know that she would either be looking at her hands or looking at Aaliya with her eyes full of sympathy.  “That must have been really hard on you,” I heard her say quietly.

“I managed.  After my father decided his marriage wasn’t worth saving because of one moment of weakness, I had my younger sister and brothers to take care of so that my mother could work.  But like I said, we always had our kapenta.  It’s a wonderful dish.”  Aaliya’s voice held a hint of defiance.

“Bitter if it isn’t prepared well, though,” Laylah remarked, her gaze fixed on Aaliya who didn’t seem to notice the comment.

Silence descended but this time it wasn’t comfortable.  I had to fight a strong urge to flee into the house, and a glance across the table told me that at least Aholien was most likely feeling the same way.  Santiago’s eyes darted between Drew and Laylah as if seeking some kind of clue about what to do next.  Those two were staring hard at Aaliya.

Finally, unable to handle the tension any longer, I stood and excused myself with a mumbled explanation about needing to find the bathroom.  I opened the sliding glass door and quietly closed it so as not to draw further attention to myself.  I took one last peek outside before setting myself to the task of actually finding the bathroom and noticed that Laylah was talking again.  I was extremely curious to know what she was saying, but I figured going back outside with a casual, “False alarm,” wouldn’t go over very well.

I moved through the sitting area and paused, looking left and right.  As I approached a doorway on the right, I could hear the distinct clatter of pots and pans.  Plucking what courage feathers I could find, I stepped into the doorway and prepared to ask for directions to the bathroom.

My eyes were greeted by a large square kitchen bustling with activity.  There were six people in the room, all dressed in white.  None of them stood out as being the chef, but each person moved in harmony with the others, none of them ever getting in one another’s way.  I’m not sure why but I had pictured the chef as a lone,  solitary figure toiling away in the kitchen, creating culinary masterpieces.  From what I was observing, this was more like an orchestra being conducted by an unseen maestro.  I had no idea what they were preparing, but I watched in fascination while each individual performed their particular part.  One carefully measured what looked to be red wine; another minced onion and garlic with a flurry of knife movements.  A third assistant stirred something in a large frying pan, pausing every once in a while to smell its contents.  The person who had been measuring the wine walked over and poured it slowly into the frying pan.  Two other people stood watching a stock pot.  My eyes moved from person to person as they diligently worked.  I don’t know how long I stood there before someone noticed me.

“Oh, hello,” said the assistant who had poured the wine.  “Can we help you with something?”  Her voice was pleasant and cheerful.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said, a little mortified that I had been caught staring.  “I was just looking for the bathroom.”

“If you walk down the hallway towards the front door, there will be a staircase to your right just before you reach the door.  The bathroom will be the first door to your left once you get upstairs.”  The assistant smiled and somehow I felt the tension I’d carried inside ease and begin to dissipate.

“Thank you so much,” I responded and prepared to find the staircase.

“When you go back outside, would you mind letting Drew and Laylah know that Chef said the next course will be ready to serve in about ten minutes?” the assistant requested.

“No problem.  Although, I guess it depends on how long it takes me in the bathroom,” I tried to joke and immediately felt my face take on the hues of the red wine in the frying pan.  “Sorry.”

Instead of the “why do you have two heads” look I normally got when I tried to make jokes, the assistant smiled again and said, “Good point.  I’ll let you do the math when you get back out there.”

I tried to return her smile, ducked my head, gave a little wave of gratitude and walked down the hallway.