Second Marriage
In his mid-forties my father remarried a young woman he had met at a literary party in New York. I was off at art school when they met, and barely paid attention, except for a phone call I got from him telling me the news. He said, “I've fallen in love.”
It didn't quite register because it seemed like something a father just wouldn't do. His job was to be dad, nothing else. In the mind of a young person this is what happens. Other people have roles they play that reflect their relationship with you, and that is all. The world is your personal stage, and the people in it are actors performing your script. I would come back to NY during school breaks, and on one of these trips I met Nina and dad in a little French restaurant way over on the west side. I don't know quite what I expected, but it wasn't the plain young woman in a plaid flannel shirt and short hair who turned out to be the object of dad's love. I at the time also had extremely short hair, but it was dyed bright orange and I wore matching orange lipstick. This was a Chapstick woman, through and through.
She seemed sharp and smart, and definitely had an edge, which I always admire, so really, I was happy for them. She was a cook book editor for a large publisher, and apparently loved to experiment in the kitchen, so we had that in common. She gave a lot of sit-down dinners at their farm house in Long Island, and a couple of times these coincided with my stay in New York, so I attended.
This was my first meal there:
Pigs knuckle in aspic
Linguini with clams
Romaine salad
Home-baked baguettes with brie
Pears
Except for the pig part this menu might sound just fine, but let me elaborate.
First came this thing that looked like something from a lab...a preserved body part from the Mesozoic era, being served to us on a plate. Were we supposed to eat this or congratulate the archeologist who dug it up in Egypt? There were 5 of us at that table. We all pushed it around the plate and broke it down a little so it looked like a few bites had been taken.
Next, the pasta. Nina had made the actual pasta herself, which was served extremely al-dente so it actually had a crunch to it. Sitting on top were baby clams, in their shells, filled with sand.
Next the salad, of romaine and cucumber, where the leaves of the lettuce were left whole, and the cucumber was cut in chunks 3”x3”. It was dressed with vinaigrette, accent on the vinegar. It was the salad equivalent of a dribble glass. You could not get a bite in your mouth without dripping on your shirt.
Next came her French baguettes and soft cheese. Nina had purportedly won prizes for her baguettes. Each of us got our own little loaf, a loaf so hard and crisp with a sharp point at either end...a loaf that, bitten into and chewed, made my gums bleed.
Then the pear. A hard pear in a bowl. Nobody wants a hard pear in a bowl.
Dad stayed married to Nina for 18 years until he realized that she probably would kill him, and not with her cooking, though that didn't help. The food she prepared was merely a symbol of her larger character and her deep disdain for the human race. We now call her 'The Evil Nina'. How people cook is always a symbol of their nature. It's something I know to be true. And by the way, if you ever use cucumbers, cut them up thinly or dice them very small. It will tell of your generosity and compassion.
Chunky Cucumber Yogurt Dill Sauce
2 small Persian cucumbers, unpeeled, finely diced
1/3 cup strained yogurt
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon rice wine vinegar
1 teaspoon honey
1 clove garlic, finely minced
1 tablespoon fresh dill, finely chopped
A pinch of salt
Put everything except diced cucumber in a ceramic bowl and whisk until blended. Fold in cucumber. The cucumber will wilt slightly and sweat, so when you serve this sauce be sure to stir. I like to use the small sweet Persian cucumbers, but you can use any kind. If you choose one with thick skin be sure to peel it off before dicing and adding. Be nice.