The Perfect Meal

Setting out to make the perfect meal is no easy task. We live in a society where perfection is constantly strived for and even expected. Yet how does one achieve perfection, and more specifically, how does one cook a perfect meal? I believe that perfect is a relative term. Like a recipe handed down from generation to generation, each time a meal is made by another generation’s hands, it will taste differently. Even when the same hands prepare a recipe, each time it is made, it will be different, as a result of our current state of mind, who’s kitchen we are cooking in, whether or not we are in a rush, who we are cooking for, and many other factors. No meal is ever the same because taste involves more than just one of our senses; it encompasses a whole experience.

When I set out to make the perfect meal, these were my initial impressions. I decided not to strive for perfection, but to find perfection in the imperfections I experienced along the way. I knew that in order to really experience a perfect meal, I needed to focus my energies on the process of preparing a meal, taking in each task as it presented itself to me, and being fully present in the kitchen. Most importantly, after discovering my initial impressions of the implications of making the perfect meal, I needed to reflect on what I could accomplish with what I had, and to determine what would lead me to creating the experience of a perfect meal.

When considering the meal itself, I knew that I wanted to prepare a meal that I was somewhat familiar with, but that would also push the boundaries of my own abilities in the kitchen. In other words, I wanted it to be both familiar and new to me, a meal that would be exciting and challenging for me to make. Additionally impacting my decision was the consideration of who I wanted to share the meal with, bearing in mind their particular tastes, allergies, and overall relationship with food. In this place and time, I wanted nothing more than to share this meal with my housemates, fully knowing that they could provide the warm atmosphere and conversation I needed to make the perfect meal an experience that would carry over to the dinner table. While I was somewhat restrained since two of them are vegetarians and one is gluten-free, I knew that I wanted to cook something that everyone would appreciate and enjoy.

With a little thought and creativity, I finally came up with my menu. First, there would be a spinach salad with feta cheese, red onion, and balsamic vinaigrette. Then secondly, for my main dish I decided on gnocchi in creamy white wine tomato sauce, served with freshly baked baguette. Gnocchi is something that I have never ventured to cook before, and I was glad to have the opportunity to finally try my hand at it. The recipe for the creamy white wine tomato sauce was one I had acquired the last time I was home. My mother and I paired the sauce with colored radiatori, pasta shaped like little radiators that my sister brought back from Italy. For me, this recipe is reminiscent of home, recalling a family meal that we were all able to sit down and enjoy after a long time apart. It was a meal accompanied by an exchange of stories and experiences, along with the excitement of being back together again. I wanted to revisit this meal, to experience it in a different setting, cooking it away from home for my close friends, to see what kind of experience this meal could possibly generate.

The preparation went smoothly, and I was considerably thankful to live in a house with a well-supplied kitchen. I was able to really appreciate the process of cooking the meal, partly owning to the company of good music and friends streaming in and out of the kitchen. Our kitchen is fairly disorganized and one often finds their self compromising, cooking in warped pans, wondering if the baguette will fit in the oven, and serving pasta in mismatched bowls and mugs alike. Yet this is part of the beauty of creating this meal, the little imperfections that make the evening meal memorable for us all. There is something about the splatter of red sauce on the stove, from the gurgle and pop of it simmering on in a pan, and the stack of dishes in the sink afterwards that is comforting. Even more so, it is comforting to sit down at a table and pass the salad and bread around, to hear from each person what they are grateful for, their faces glowing in the candlelight. I like knowing that I have made others happy, filled their stomachs with good food, and have been able to share the experience of making the perfect meal with my housemates, girls who have become my close friends over time through experiences like this. When I look back on this meal, it is already inextricable from the events of that morning, when each of us eagerly tore open our study abroad acceptance letters, an event that became one of many seasonings that truly made the meal I prepared that evening, feel perfect for us all.

A perfect meal is so much more than accurately following a recipe. It is learning to accept that we do not have control over the perfection of our meal entirely. Even when we are cooking, our ability to create a delicious meal depends upon our experience in the kitchen and whether or not we have previously made the meal we are cooking. With each meal, comes a unique form of energy. We bring our daily lives to the dinner table every night, along with current events, past experiences, and our given relationships to the people we are sharing the meal with, all of which we often have little power over. It is what we choose to do with these components that matters, allowing us to shape what we individually define as the perfect meal. Like beauty, perfection is in the eye of the beholder and is closely tied to our acceptance. Tucking into the perfect meal is a sensory experience surrounding the company joining you, the conversation, the mood of the atmosphere, and the food. We eat to live, but we also live to take pleasure in our experiences and to push away from the table, feeling a little more content and fuller each time.