For our 14th anniversary,
we ate
at a swanky restaurant.
Though we were dressed up,
it was hard to disguise our rusting
2007 Chrysler Town & Country
between the Mercedes and Wagoneers.
Sitting al fresco,
pretending not to know our minivan,
I thought of my grandpa
when I saw
rainbow trout
on the menu.
I mentioned my memories
of him fishing for such
to my wife,
and she wagered she knew
people who worked at the facility
that supplied the duck -
not paper pushers or upper management:
pluckers.
Shout out to Maple Leaf Farms,
Kosciusko County, Indiana.
After ordering an appetizer
of tomato, mozzarella, and basil
as well as duck for her,
I requested the trout,
in honor of my grandpa,
wondering if he would be
impressed or embarrassed
at my $28 fish
compared to what he caught
and gutted and cooked and ate
for almost nothing
but time
in the mountains
and the kitchen
with family.
The strangers in the next table
ordered the $260 bottle of wine
I couldn’t pronounce.
I squeezed a second lemon wedge
into my refilled glass of water.
The single thickly cut tomato,
slabs of soft mozzarella,
and sprig of basil
nestled in seasoned olive oil
was composed mostly
of food he grew in his garden,
as were the beans,
roasted potatoes,
and half of an acorn squash
which accompanied my trout,
relieved of its innards and bones
but not its head,
its unblinking eye peering knowingly past my button-up.
It was the simplicity that struck me
but also the quality,
as if it had come from
my grandpa’s garden and pole.
“This chocolate cake is
almost like my mom’s
microwave brownie pudding,”
she interjected,
“but the ice cream definitely doesn’t touch
what my dad makes for birthdays.”
I concurred
as I wondered
at the $109 bill,
excluding tip for waiter and valet parker,
who, to his credit,
kept a straight face
as “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes” played
from our tape deck.
The cost of temporarily
experiencing a taste of the state
of simplicity, it appears,
is high.
Higher than the cost of living it?
Thank goodness we had a gift card.
