Boldly Go Solo

On a scrap of paper somewhere, I have a recipe for a caramelized onion salad. It came from Jesus, a Cuban guy who cooked the delicious appetizer for me in an Arizona restaurant.

I was sitting alone in the mostly empty dining room. Phoenix in May is not a prime destination. It’s a rotisserie. But I didn’t choose it. I was there for work.

I had booked an inexpensive but very nice resort hotel. Tip: for those who like heat, Arizona prices plunge in the summer.

Okay, so I needed to eat dinner. I always go out when I travel. I find that dining in a hotel room is mighty depressing. To avoid getting back into the hotbox car and driving past a lot of strip malls, I went downstairs.

It felt odd to walk into a formal dining room that had only two couples in it. I left, and went to the more casual bar downstairs. It was pretty empty, too, and I liked the upstairs menu better. I chose to go with the better food. Back to the white tablecloths.

The servers were lovely to me. Maybe they were happy
to see any customers. Maybe it was my single status. Maybe they were
just nice people. I was served by a waiter, a busboy and a guy who
wheeled over a portable stove to caramelize the onions for my salad
right before my eyes.

He was obviously Latino. As usual, I
tried out my elementary Spanish. He liked that. We conversed a little
as he cooked. He was quite a talkative sort and told me what he was
adding to the food. And about his home country. The busboy, Carlos, who
I don’t think spoke much English, seemed to be intrigued that I was
speaking Spanish with Jesus.

He moved closer to eavesdrop. At some point, he and I spoke a little too. We all had a good time at dinner that night, it seems.

By the time I left, I had a recipe for a great salad,
and a receiving line as I left the dining room. Jesus and Carlos both
stood at the exit to say good-bye and wish me well.

Now, if I could only figure out what I did with that piece of paper with the recipe on it…

Photo: Saguaro cacti in the Sonoran Desert of Arizona.