Last night I engaged in a spiritual practice known to many (me) as a “two parm night”. The details of this event, if the name was not clear, are that I ate both chicken and eggplant parm in one night. I started my evening as I often do, with first dinner. This dinner is often smaller in scale, and happens before my social engagements of the night. Picture a single fried eggplant cutlet, a homemade red sauce, and a few slices of fresh mozz. Broiled for a few minutes to melt the cheese, topped with basil. And yes, a little pasta because I am not a loser. First Dinner is often in my brain under the “appetizer” category, something to satiate me before the Big One. My first parm of the evening was a great thing to tide me over, propelling me into my drink plans, and allowing me to comfortably have a martini. Should you have one single martini without First Dinner? Well…Good Luck, Charlie.
After the first parm, the martini, and a fernet on the rocks, it was time to come home to the second parm. A prepped station for chicken parm (known to many as the superior parm) was waiting for me next to a packed bowl because, well, my forethought is my greatest strength. To be a quadruple Virgo is a blessing and a curse. But for the purposes of a TPN (two parm night) it was a great blessing: I had pounded and breaded my cutlet, made some fresh red sauce, pre-sliced a hunk of mozzarella, and chiffonaded some basil. I even lined a sheet tray with tin foil, so that when I broil the cheese onto the cutlet, the gooey spillover wouldn’t harden and ruin my night and then ultimately my whole entire life.
Most people talk ad nauseam about how cooking is love, and love is cooking. I am included in that group of people, I know. Cooking for myself, or for anyone, is such a sensory expression of love - a tactile, real, touchable expression of care. And for me, the most interesting examination of this expression of love comes now, at this time in my life, working on the line in a restaurant. It’s very much like…so if cooking is love and love is cooking then who is driving this bus? How far does the love extend?
By this I mean that I must remain cautious - I don’t want to be caught off guard if things feel out of balance. I think it’s okay to think about love and care as a finite resource. Although most of us have deep wells of love to give, it’s okay to accept that the well isn’t infinite. So now I think about this sometimes as I cook in large batches, in a big kitchen, for people I don’t know. How will I preserve resources, making sure I have enough love to give myself after I have doled it out to strangers? How will I maintain a certain level of care when a job can be so…executional? And of course I don’t have any answers. Not here, not now. And hey, the other shoe may never drop. The ecosystem of food equaling love may just… continue to exist without consequence. The fun part is knowing that the only way forward is through. Who was it…Plato? Socrates? Or Aristotle perhaps, who said, “life is a highway, I’m gonna ride it all night long.”
What I do know is that occasions like Two Parm Night ensure the longevity of this ecosystem. It’s like annual car maintenance but instead of every year it’s every week and instead of an oil change it’s a really intentional night of cooking and eating with yourself. If you skip the oil change, it’s not like the car will spontaneously combust. It technically is skippable - or rather put-off-able, for a certain amount of time. But honey…it’s gonna cause problems. The problems may not be visible to you at first, but they will start to wreak havoc on the system slowly but surely.
All I really wanted to say is that I am hoping you make the dinner soon <3
Or idk. Get your oil changed.