The seventh Friday of lent came and went. Aside from the St Joseph Feast Day reprieve and the Fifth Fourth Friday cooking competition, we did pretty well not eating meat. There are alternatives.
Yesterday being Good Friday threw a different spin on the meatless Friday concept. It was also a day of fasting until sundown. Fasting.
I work in a restaurant, Fasting in a restaurant with the aromas and sights of juicy steaks, grease dripping hamburgers, and crisp salty fries was almost unbearable. Liquids are allowed, including broth, so I had some vegetable broth around noon with a liberal crack of pepper, a few cans of tomato juice, lots of water, and some skanky crab broth mid-afternoon. It was difficult to not eat just by habit.
The Head Chef was prepping lobster butter-lettuce cups for dinner service. He offered me a lobster claw! An entire claw, glowing pink-salmon colored, limp and firm at the same time, and cracked right from the shell shiny. I stared at it, at him, and back at the claw. Who would know the difference? I could taste the luscious meat swiped through drawn butter, slapping my cheeks with sticky lobster meat. I could actually taste it.
Maybe that was enough. To imagine tasting it. I went back to work, feeding those not bound by Good Friday fasting rules. There was pleasure in watching others eat.
We had planned a simple dinner after church and the hours long service last night. By the time we got home, we were hungry. We could have eaten oven brasied flip-flops served over sauteed shredded newspaper, buttered of course.
I asked Michael how a pureed pepper soup sounded, knowing he was tiring of my soup making. His reply, "I don't care, I'll eat anything."