There are points in every season where I wake up and there’s… something – whether it’s a smell, a certain temperature or the way the air feels, maybe the height of the sun, just barely shining through the window as I wake –, that sends me careening back to a point in time. A different time. A time when my life didn’t feel like this.
On the one hand, it’s easy to get used to things. To times. To routine. The first week of finding my way from home to metro to work to metro to class and back again feels like a whirlwind, and then there comes a point when I no longer have to refer to the schedule I’ve made for myself of where I’m supposed to be and when, where I can just seamlessly move from one activity to another and always seem to find myself in the right place.
It reminds me of high school.
It’s strange to think about how simultaneously long ago and recent high school feels to me. It seems as though it could have been just yesterday that I was walking across the New England campus, moving from building to building, class to class, hoping that I wouldn’t have English right before music, because then I would have to run. And yet it wasn’t yesterday; it was nearly ten years ago. It’s not the time span that bothers me; it’s how much has happened in between then and now. How much has changed. How many new lives, new reincarnations I’ve had, between something that felt normal and something that is.
I don’t get up at 7:20 anymore, but I remember when I did. I remember leaving the dorm at 7:40 to get to the dining hall in time to eat something before 8:00 class. I remember Thursday mornings, when class started at 8:45, and my friends and I went down to the local diner for breakfast instead. But more than that, especially today, I remember days before that tradition, days when I went to the diner all by myself.
On certain Wednesday afternoons, after X Period (which was an all-school meeting that hosted a guest speaker that the entire school would come and listen to), I would go down to town, taking my copy of the New York Times crossword puzzle with me (I don’t remember how I got my hands on a New York Times crossword puzzle… I think there was a box of them somewhere). I would take a seat at the counter of the diner, order an omelette or some pancakes and an endless cup of coffee, and I would try to complete the puzzle while really mostly people watching and sometimes writing the beginnings of failed novels on yellow legal pads. I had no problem with being alone, with being uncontactable, with having no one know where I was.
I don’t do that anymore.
Whether because I don’t have time or because I no longer have the desire, I very rarely take myself out for adventures anymore, even adventures so benign as a trip to the local diner. Let’s forget, for a moment, that there are no local diners in France. I used to take myself out to the market, when I first lived here. I went for solitary walks in parks. I read in cafés over a tiny cup of coffee that I let go cold. I don’t take time to be alone anymore, and when I have it, I certainly don’t relish it. As strange and difficult as it is to admit, being alone with myself scares me a bit now.
This morning, the air reminded me of fall mornings in New England, and my imagination faded back to those times at the tiny diner in my prep school town. I let myself get nostalgic and even a little melancholy… as though those days were dead for good. And then I got a hold of myself.
I certainly don’t have time to take myself on adventures on most days. I’m far too busy, running from thing to thing. And during those moments that I have by myself, I tend to fill my time with useless tasks and noise – music, work, television. But there are elements of my Parisian life and, more importantly, my life by myself, that I’ve let slip. And I think that this morning was a wake-up call, quite literally. While days at Lantern Brunch may be over, days on my own most certainly are not.
The next time I have a free moment to myself – I’m certainly hoping it will be sooner, rather than later – I fully intend to take myself on a little adventure… hopefully I’ll be able to wrangle up a crossword puzzle, and I’ll be sure to leave my phone at home.
Mushrooms, Thyme, Goat Cheese, Egg
While this has very little to do with diner food, it is one of the last things that I made for myself, when I was willing to cook something up for just me. I took an adventure to my local market and picked up a few ingredients for a vegetarian dish.
This makes a lot of mushrooms… but I like mushrooms.
1 Tbsp. butter, separated
1/2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 pound crimini or button mushrooms, brushed, de-stemmed and thinly sliced
½ onion, minced
2 branches fresh thyme
1 ounce goat cheese
1 egg
salt and pepper to taste
Over high heat, melt ½ tablespoon butter with the olive oil in a skillet. Add the mushrooms, one or two handfuls at a time, to brown. Push the mushrooms to the edge of the skillet and add more.
When the mushrooms have all been browned, add the onion and a pinch of salt. Reduce the heat and cook until the onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Stir together with the mushrooms. Remove the mushroom and onion mixture from the heat and season to taste with salt and pepper. Add the leaves from one branch of thyme and the goat cheese, crumbled. Reserve.
Add the remaining butter to the skillet and crack the egg into it. Fry on one side until the white is cooked and the yolk is still creamy. Season with salt and pepper and place atop the mushrooms.