ONE TINY SPARK

Last night I said goodbye to an old friend. This friend loved me, he loved me more than anyone has ever loved me, and for a time I loved him back. And when we did love each other, we ate so well together! Now that I know what it's like to be hungry alone, I realize what a privilege it was to be hungry with someone else. "When do we eat?" is a beautiful question, my favorite question. "When do I eat?" doesn't quite have the same ring to it. But I will get used to it.

I said goodbye to my friend, my beautiful best friend, at Casimir, a French restaurant in the East Village. Through the course of our years together we shared so many meals there; we used to stuff ourselves with luxurious fatty foods like country pate, foie gras terrine, duck confit, and goat cheese salads with roasted tomatoes and eggplant caviar. Last night we shared a bottle of Cotes du Rhone; once, it had been our favorite wine. But wine doesn't taste the same when you're crying; tears are no complement to any meal.

This is the week of the Last Supper. And last night I had mine. There are clean slates, and there are clean plates. I was lucky to know him. Those were some of my favorite meals.