Eating, Praying, and Loving through Michigan, but mostly Eating

I've been reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.  Originally, I had resisted reading this book, because so many women who seem fake and superficial were in love with the book and claiming how much they identified with the character.  Then, when I found out that Julia Roberts would play the author in the movie adaptation, I was furthered turned off.  I'm not sure why I don't like Julia Roberts.  She's not a bad person; in fact, she's a pretty good actress.  I think maybe she's just too perfect me.  In fact, she's sort of the epitome of the women singing the praises on the book.

The book is about a women who comes into her own after being modernly repressed for a big part of her life.  I just don't identify with that sort of self repressed suburban woman, especially when she blames others for her position and yet she is clearly making her own selfish choices.  And then, I also am troubled even more by the women who can't stop singing their own personal praises.  "I run this charity." "I'm on this board." "My child is this close to discovering the cure for cancer!"  ETC!  I'm glad that these strong women do these things and have kids who do awesome things.  I'm proud of their efforts, but I think modesty is to be admired.  These are the kind of women I have a hard time imagining actually have passionate sex or even take a bowel movement.  They're just so flawless.  They run, they have perfect fashion, their husbands are CEO's or poets.  I may be projecting here, because I probably talk more about myself than I should, like these women, as well, but hopefully I don't.  Anyway, I needed a book that would travel easily and so I grabbed the book as I was walking out my door on the way to the Traverse City Film Festival.  Within just the first few pages of reading; however, I knew that I too would identify with the author's journey of self-actualization.  I guess, as a woman, we all share those epiphany moments where we do change and become more of who we are.  Maybe many of the women singing the praises for Eat, Pray, Love deep down really want to be more rough around the edges like me or escape from a repression that they through a series of snowballing choices have found themselves in.

I finished the Italy section of the book while in Traverse City.  I won't go into the details of the book beyond a simple summary.  Basically, in this section, Gilbert walks away from an unfulfilling relationship and spends four months devoted to pleasure and finding herself again.  The culture of Italy speaks to slowness and savoring the good life.  Meals are meant to be shared with good company, enjoying food that has been cooked slowly and with love.  The company can be in the form of that shared with others or with your mind and perhaps a good book.  My company is most often the second option.  The author finds love for herself in savoring these daily feasts.  My summer, with very little obligations, has been a picture of this. I wake slowly.  I spend afternoons in the kitchen making new dishes.  I bike or walk for hours with no particular place to go.  So, naturally, upon finishing the pleasure section of her book, I was feeling the need to at least experience a small taste of the culinary pleasures of Italy.

After choosing an Italian restaurant in Traverse City, I realized I could sort of eat my way through Eat, Pray, Love in Michigan.  She travels to Italy, India, and Indonesia.  My budget prohibits me from traveling the globe right now, but I believe Michigan can offer me some mini-experiences similar to Gilbert's.  So began my first chapter in my quest.

I wandered into Sorelinna, a new Italian restaurant in the downtown area; I didn't know it was new at the time.  At first, I almost walked out.  It was a very hot and muggy day and the first air of the restaurant that greeted me was a bit fishy and not much cooler than the outside.  I wasn't put off by the smell, as I've found many restaurants with a fishy smell tend to smell that way because they are serving good seafood.  As I was set on having a late and slow Italian lunch, I decided to stay.  The hostess settled me into a comfortable booth in the bar area at a window.  The bench even has a cozy throw pillow in case I wanted a nap.

A friendly, but slightly jumbled waiter/bartender took my drink order.  I wanted sangria, since that's my current summer beverage love, but they didn't have it.  I'm okay with that; it's a Spanish drink, not an Italian. So, instead, I settled on cranberry pomegranate martini.  It arrived in a tall glass with an ice cold glass of water.  I placed my order for a Caprese Salad and a rustic Italian sausage pasta dish and sat back to sip my cocktail while I waited for my food.  The salad arrived and it was truly the highlight of my meal--fresh tomatoes, smooth buffalo mozzarella, and a great thick and flavorful balsamic vinegar.  I realized later it was sans basil leaves, but they weren't even missed with the bed of arugula standing in as a green.  So tasty.

The pasta dish was made of thick, seasoned, homemade noodles in a hearty tomato sauce.  Unfortunately, it appealed so greatly to my senses, that I dug in before I thought of taking a picture.  The sauce had a very herby flavor to it and was a tad salty, but still pretty good.  It also was filled with a generous portion of homemade Italian sausage.  I ate all of the savory chunks of meat, but left quite a bit of the pasta and sauce.  I wasn't given bread, which I really think should be standard with any nicer meal, so I asked for some.  Apparently, at lunch time, it only available upon request.  I'm glad I asked, but that just seems a little cheap.  Oh well, not to be bothered.  The bread and an olive oil, herb, and cheese dipping sauce arrived with my glass of house Chianti, that was actually quite good and a dollar off due to it being "happy hour."  Despite the saltiness of the herb blend (I would have used a salt free herb blend) I mopped up lots of the sauce and ate all of the bread.  I nibbled on more of the pasta while I waited to place my dessert order.

That took quite awhile, as the bartender/waiter was engaged with two vocally drunk professionals having a very extended business lunch and some general mid-day in a restaurant kind of business.  I pleasantly picked at my remaining food and eavesdropped.

Of course, when he finally did come around, I ordered the Tiramisu.  In a sweet but slightly OH kind of way, he said, "Oh, you're going all out today!"

I replied, "Sure am!"

If it's possible to be disappointing and quite good at the same time, that was the tiramisu.  It was actually quite delicious, but not really what I would expect.  First it was served in a ramekin and filled to the top of the container.  This made for a generous portion, but would prohibit the diner from adding a shot of Bailey's or other alcohol, which is quite common when eating tiramisu as an after dinner dessert. It also would have made the dessert less than ideal for sharing.  In addition, it was more marscapone that coffee soaked lady fingers.  Still the mascrapone layers melted in my mouth with a delicious creaminess and the coffee-flavored lady fingers melded nicely with the smooth cream.

All and all, it was a slow meal that I enjoyed greatly.  While I did dine alone, I felt part of the restaurant.  I ended up chatting with a few people at the bar and even the owner came over to ask me about my meal.  I left feeling a sense of peace with my season of indulgence and pleasures coming to an end.  I'm eager to enter my personal "India" where I'll be going back to school, not to devote myself to spiritual fulfillment and enlightenment, but a different kind of fulfillment.  A fulfillment where I am serving others and watching young minds grow, find peace with each other, and face new challenges.

Gilbert wrote of how Americans often need to justify their relaxation--be told that they deserve a break.  This was very true for me this summer.  I felt guilty doing nothing--sleeping in, wandering about the house putting things away slowly rather than in a rush to move on to the next task...  At times, I would feel even depressed because I had nothing of purpose I had to do.  But this summer helped me remember that you don't always have to be doing something.  Sometimes you can just sit and be.  Stop and listen...I remember a quote that I heard once, although I don't remember who said it and am surely not quoting it word for word..."no need to travel anywhere, though my imagination, I can travel the world."  I would prefer to travel the world; however, for now I will settle for food, thought, and words to take me to all the places I long to be.