Good Things Take Time
A Sourdough Dinner
I walked into The Knife Factory fully ready to help with the operations and production of the Sourdough dinner. Upon entering, I was greeted by Chelsea, Abby, Kate, Carlos, Coco, Jules and Clare. It already didn’t feel like work - it was a meeting of friends putting their skills together to create a work of art.
To my surprise, I was told that I would be dining as a guest. I was gleefully shocked. How could I be so lucky as to receive the gifts of my friends’ hard work? I was already expecting to have fun and enjoy the evening through serving. That feeling of joy only grew knowing that I would be seated at the table to truly experience the magic of a Create Dinners production.
From that foundational jubilation, a structure of ebullience was built with each course. I was seated with strangers at the far end of the table - Stony, Jenny, Bethany, Naaj, and Chellise. We were invited to connect through a series of questions that were paired with each dish, and each of us arrived with our full and open selves.
The first course was a fennel and saffron tea, a warm greeting. Tea has often been a hospitable way to welcome others, a symbol of unity, a motif of humanity’s differences and similarities converging over a shared beverage. We all brought our distinct experiences and unique perspective to this single point in time. And with this, dinner had begun.
Abby and Carlos graced us with a profound preface to the story that was about to unfold. “Good things take time”. And like the herbs that are steeped in hot water to create a unifying beverage, I, too, found myself existing in fluidity, having my essence extracted, allowing my aroma to float.
The next course was a canelé - a french pastry that gets better as you allow the dough to develop slow, a fermentation of flavor, a patient process. The outcome is a dichotomous mouthfeel. Its custard-like interior held in form by a crunchy crust. The two textures reliant on one another to hold and be held the same way that we need each other, to hold and be held. This canelé, though, held a savory surprise. Its French onion soup filling tantalized my tastebuds, I could only express awe at the creativity showcased before my eyes.
Third course: koginut squash, the sensationally nuanced result of modern technology. A cross between a kabocha squash and a butternut squash resulting in hand-sized globular pumpkins, both earthy and sweet with notes of butter and brine. Conversation began to intensify as our appetites were piqued. The intricacy of flavor became a platform for us to share our hearts’ mystique.
A break in the meal, or rather a bridge, I will say. Bread and butter and olive oil. The theme of the night was on display. Sourdough slices piled high in bowls. Icelandic kelp butter, chamomile olive oil. Liquid gold. My obsession with seaweed was highlighted before my eyes. It could only taste of heaven, pleasant pungency, ocean water in disguise. It was at this time that our section of the table began to feel more like family than strangers.
“Eat salad, drink water”: the words of advice we received from Naaj. It was time to do just that. The greens arrived on the table, and we all let out a simultaneous, “what’s that?” A circle of liquid on the outer edge of the bowl turned out to be ricotta salata made out of a mistake, seemingly so. It was doused in a burnt Concord grape kombucha vinaigrette. An ingenious adornment. Who even thinks of that?
On to the main course, a true testament of “good things take time”. Kombucha coffee mole tamales straight from the chefs’ minds. Again, the innovation, the novelty, the creativity brought to life. All of my senses centered around this steamed corn pie. The soft mouthfeel, the sound of a gentle chew. Not to mention the “oohs” and “mmmms” heard all throughout the room. An appearance of humility in the simple masa mass, though it takes days and effort to make what we were eating. A pure example of craft.
At this point, we were sharing stories of ex-lovers, heartbreak and renewal. Advice was given from women to men, from old to young: don’t date a gemini, be pushy but fair. Dessert came to sweeten our palates at the perfect time, to bring closure to the journey, to see us out with a final dance.
Chocolate sourdough buckwheat cake dressed with hazelnuts and Swiss cream. Holy mother god of all pastries, I can’t say I have tasted anything so serene. The flavors merged together in a harmonious glow. I was taken up to the skies and then gently placed back in my seat below. Food takes you places, this I know, but this conclusion of the meal had me in a world I did not know.
The evening winded down and people began to collect their coats. Stony poured me one last glass of wine. I wanted to simply sit there and absorb the beauty of how the night unfolded. Like savasana at the end of a yoga class, I had to be still to fully soak in the nourishment from the evening. Taking it in through deep breaths and a present mind, a smile was brought to my face without even trying.
To the wonderful people who made Sourdough such a success, you are the artists who breed substance out of ideas. You are the ones bringing us together to break bread. Thank you, Create Dinners, Village, The Knife Factory, and Madre Mezcal. I will never forget this experience.