I’m writing this aboard my flight back to Shanghai, inspired after just having read a book entitled ‘Cooking for Mr. Latte’ by New York Times food writer Amanda Hessner. I don’t usually read books … those who know me well can attest to that fact. The fine print causes my eyes to glaze over, and the often painstaking descriptions make me skim pages impatiently, as if looking for picture inserts that never exist. But this book is different. As a girl who spends her free time reading recipes and cookbooks, I view a book that integrates food, friendship, and love as far from ordinary. So instead of following my regime of watching terrible in-flight movies until I fall asleep, I have been pouring over each delicious adjective in Hessner’s recounting of her love affair with food and ‘Mr. Latte’.The book, contrary to what the title may suggest, is not only about meals Hessner may cook for Mr. Latte but is a diary or memoir of her experiences during the love affair from attending a home-cooked meal by Mr. Latte’s mom to 6-hour dinners with Vogue food critic (and Iron chef judge) Jeffrey Steingarten. It’s entertaining, practical (with over 100 recipes from the short stories she recounts), and incredibly heart-warming …
There’s something special about the integration of food and love – the delight of each builds on each other to form supremely sensual combinations. This is why I enjoy watching Ina Garten thoughtfully prepare a meal for her Jeffrey on the Food Network … why I smile almost gleefully when I hear of romances starting in the kitchen … and why I find an ordinary meal is made extraordinary if it is A who is accompanying me.
Have I cooked for A? Yes, a couple of times … and it is every-bit as nerve-racking as Hessner’s first experience cooking for Mr. Latte. There is the laying on your bed at night unable to fall asleep because you’re pondering over your menu, the next-day doubt over whether your recipe selections are adequately simple, unassuming yet delicious, the day-before concern over working with your availability of ingredients and kitchen appliances, and of course the day-of anxiousness in execution, result, and of course, reaction.
The first time I made a full meal for A, I had decided to experiment with new recipes, settling on a hearty vegetable soup topped with aged cheddar cheese … followed by a simple seared salmon on top of a bed of risotto-style potatoes and corn … and ending with a winter-friendly, warm cinnamon rice pudding with a dark chocolate center. The food was only average, but A’s reaction was naturally positive – effusively (and embarrassingly) so. Just as love makes the cook put extra care and attention in preparing the meal, it also makes the taster enjoy it as much as if he were sampling the most grand of tasting menus at a 3-star Michelin restaurant.It’s amazing to me the combination of food and love … and how each enhances the other to deliver an escalated level of delight. And this is why after 12 hours of sitting on a cramped economy seat having just finished a quite-unsavory airline meal, I am still smiling – just reading about it has quite a strong effect!
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