My Dinner With Vince | By Hogan Bielski

"Laughter is brightest in the place where the food is."

-- Irish proverb

"Your brother is making dinner." That's it. No "This is your mother," which was her standard phone greeting, or even "Hello." In that dry voice she would use with more than a twinge of sarcasm. But I had come to know exactly what this conversation intro meant and the proper response, for Vince was in town. "So what's he making this time, Ethiopian goat or what?" Mom would always laugh and I would find a comfy spot for the dialog to follow.

"The trouble with eating Italian food is that five or six days later you're hungry again."

--George Miller

And the trouble with remembering Vince's individual dinners is they seem to just have all melded together, thanks to the whirlwind pace of his visits back to Michigan. The accompanying partying and libations may have had something to do with that, but one thing is for sure. When Vince comes to town, he will be a'cookin' at least one family dinner and times will be had. But that Carbonara, oh, that one refuses to be forgotten. The best of Vince's creations during his THERE WILL BE PASTA phase indeed took days to recover from but was worth every delayed onset gastric symptom. I would wager that to this day that meal had the highest caloric and LDL cholesterol count of any single serving I have ever ingested. Perhaps that is why I don't really recall the banter and solving the problems of the world that usually occur afterwards, but would still do it again without hesitation. Of course, the second time around I will be prepared and take the following day off work.

"Anything that walks, swims, crawls, or flies with its back to heaven is edible."

--Cantonese saying (Source: The Chinese Kitchen by Eileen Yin-Fei Lo) 

"I don't know why he doesn't just make something normal," Mom would continue. Vince's cuisine du jour was one of her two complaints during his exotic phases. She looked forward to the event and family gathering that Vince catalyzed, as we all did. It was as if these calls were the prelim to the main event and she couldn't wait to get things started. "Well, whatever he makes is always good," I would respond, which was true. "We'll see," Mom would say, and usually remind me of the single partial failure out of all Vince's many dinners.

"There are five elements: earth, air, fire, water and garlic."

--Louis Diat

Now this one sounds great on paper and was not actually a failure in my mind. Take a leg of lamb, separate it into big chunks, marinate it in a bottle of red wine and half a dozen heads of garlic for a few days, and then throw it on the BBQ. Simple and convenient, a seemingly perfect concoction for up at the cottage, where lengthy or involved preparations become a challenge due to limited resources, time and libation constraints. In fact, it was these dinners at the cottage that ended with the most engaging and varied conversations. When Vince invited the whole extended fam damily, the mix of liberals and conservatives, union members and non, yankees and billies, the ingredients were in place for a lively recipe, to be sure. What failed? Only the dish, perhaps, but not the experience. Grilled to very rare and in largish hunks, the lamb was not a hit. Hmmm, noted I, the outer, more well-done portions were quite flavorful and tasty. So back on the grill went my rare uneaten center portion and, eureka, crusty, garlicky heaven. As I continued to devour the regrilled lamb, I could not convince any others to do the same. A shame, but that left me my choice of pieces to eat at my leisure. The only real drawback afterwards, I could not directly face anyone while conversing with them on the current hot topic.

"A messy kitchen is a happy kitchen, and this kitchen is delirious!"

--Unknown

So once Mom and I would get past the specifics of the chosen cuisine, we would move on to issue number two. "I can't even walk into the kitchen when your brother is cooking!" I would have to agree here since my observations of Vince's cooking style might best be described as loosely controlled mayhem. Nary would a utensil, pot, cooking or prep surface remain unscathed for long. I mean, finding an open spot on the countertop to set down one's bottle of Beck's was difficult. It wasn't that Vince's resultant clutter would remain unaddressed (often thanks to his better half); Mom just couldn't deal with the chaos in process. So at last I would point this out, we would laugh and confirm the date and time, and look forward to a dining and family encounter par excellence.

"Food to a large extent is what holds a society together, and eating is closely linked to deep spiritual experiences."

--Peter Farb and George Armelagos

Well, bro, it looks like I will miss your next visit to town, spending time with you and yours and the group you will gather, and whatever repast your aging mind has in store. Dad just called as I type this, claims he just hung up with you and it's crab legs, and he needs to find some good ones right away (or rad away, as he says). So he sure seems excited at the prospect of your tearing up his kitchen, which constitutes proof positive of your culinary prowess, albeit a bit tame on the menu selection, I would say. Guess you're getting a bit long in the tooth and the gap between you and Dad is finally closing. So next I assume you'll be voting Republican? What? No more Bush vs. Obama debates? Say it isn't so! What Dad is really excited about is you, Chris, and Luca coming to visit, just as Mom always was. The fact you can throw together a mean chipped beef is just the icing on the cake, and, to a degree, the icing that holds our gatherings together and gave Mom a subject to get it all started with. If she was still with us, I bet her calls would have already started in anticipation of your visit and all that truly meant to her. (OK, I know it's Chris who makes the mean chipped beef, but you know what I mean.)

Happy 50th, Vince, wishing you many more birthdays to come, and by the way, as I see it, you owe me a dinner. 

Love ya,

Hoagie