(English) Sun-Dried Red Pepper Salad

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Sunday feels like a middle of a working week. The borderline between weekend and week days has been blurred for me. Because I don’t work in the office I can stay back at home and do some work on Sunday to avoid the weekend crowds, however hard it is with the windows open in the middle of Moda. I then can choose a quieter day during the week to rest. This rhythm is in sync with my family, and you understand me if you have ever worked in the hospitality.

I remember how strange it felt to do nights at an Irish pub one summer during my studies in Norway. I worked only few days a week (making money that would keep me going for a year in India, God bless Norwegian per-hour rate): a shift would go from 6-7 pm pouring Guinness, loading glasses into the washing machine and then removing them to 2-3 am when you take that fastest and quietest ever taxi ride home because you are the only one on the road. The next day starts slow, towards the midday: a long run, breakfast, some reading and if I had to work again — back to the bar. Once I joined the other bar’s staff at their outing on Monday, a professional official day off. We went to a night club where everyone knew each other as they all worked in the hotels, restaurants and bars. It felt desperate because this the bunch of people meant to socialize within this narrow circle for the rest of their lives unless they decide to change their career.

Since then I try to avoid Monday night outings, or any professional ghettos for that matter, at any cost and that’s why hosting the Antakya breakfast was so refreshing for me. Readers of my blog and friends surely know what I do but this time they could it share it with them in a very tangible way — by treating them to my food (and not at least find out find out that the olive oil cookies I was so worried about were an absolute hit!)

As I am getting very busy with the high season rush I am thinking a lot about the act of sharing. When I run a food walk or a cooking class this is what I do — I share a bit of my knowledge, enthusiasm and even life with the guests. It becomes back-and-forth if in turn they choose to share some of theirs too. Or it becomes an installation at an art-gallery when visitors arrive to be entertained, they watch you bewildered and leave full of unspoken reflections and feelings.

If I am going it for money is that right to expect the response? I strongly believe it is. It is a natural rule of life, a continuous movement of energy and knowledge from person to person. You have to be a conductor in this chain and pass further what you got from someone else, the energy flow can’t just stop on you. That’s why I feel condemned sharing — through this blog as well as through my walks and cooking classes. The immediate reciprocation happens at times — when I hear from you in a comment or when you mail back to me and say you can truly relate to what I wrote; when people on my walks ask question that indicate sincere interest, when a customer challenges me and then after a tour writes back to say that he went through the trouble of testing his hypothesis and proved wrong (such a gift for me!), when people share their life experiences with me. This is worth more than money I get and matters more than the vanity of appearance on a major media outlet.

If I don’t get an immediate response sharing becomes difficult: at some point I run out of energy and can’t continue with the same enthusiasm. A massage therapist from the US told me once how she also feels at times that a very uncomplicated session becomes so difficult and people rob her of energy for a wrong reason. If you make living by serving people you know what I mean. For instance, I don’t believe it’s right to come to a restaurant and expect being attended without talking to a waiter, asking questions about the restaurant and its food, commenting on the dishes you’ve ordered and confirming your satisfaction with a tip.

When I don’t get the response I often feel robbed of — of the time I could share with somebody else and of the energy that I know looks overflowing to some people so they happily tap in without realizing I need to refill sometimes. But I also see how it’s good to pass some off some energy so that you could leave it behind and move on to a new level: just like a snake throwing away its tail you have used up this resource and ready to go ahead and develop.

Thank you very much to all the keen breakfasters I met today — it was a pleasure to open the doors of my house to you and you were never short of encouraging response. I also thank those who wanted to join but could not make it today. I may see you next time. Maybe on June, 16 when I will put together an Aegean-theme breakfast (my mother-in-law happily bitten by a travel bug this year is back from a trip to the Aegean with the edible gifts and stories that make me want to re-visit the area).