The On-line Dish

To look at us, or listen to us, you would wonder if we could spend 20 minutes together, much less the 20 plus years we have been close friends. Sandra is the beatnik, the artist, the flower child who approaches everything in a dramatic yet casual style. Rose has a more classical organized style in her life. She is the scientist, the logical, organized soul of the group. I am the business woman, the dedicated 60+ hour executive that has little time for the decorative arts.

Sandra is the entertainer of the three of us, the extrovert, and the most likely to cook for company. Her busy kitchen always seems to be in disarray. Over the years, I have tried to organize her shelves and drawers but to no avail. With in a short period, she has converted back to the higgledy-piggledy Sandra system of organization.

Sandra never follows a recipe. Her sense of flavors and spices are avant-garde. I often feel the need to sneak more conventional flavors into her stews and soups when she is not looking. Yet her haphazard skills often turn out an excellent variety of food, although the various flavors are not necessarily complimentary. Her eclectic meals could include Sicilian pasta with a Nepalese vegetable dish. Her style is beyond cutting edge, what might be called the bleeding edge.

Now you enter a different world when you walk into Rose’s kitchen. It is ergonomically arranged. I can always find the right knife, bowl or pan. Everything is organized perfectly, spices are alphabetized, the knives are always sharpened, and the counters clear of debris. When Rose makes a salad, there is no leftover water on the salad leaves, everything is cut to perfection, and color coordinated in the bowl. Food is served on the appropriate plates, and always decorated with fresh herbs. Each meal is a perfect picture, even the napkins match the dinner theme.

Although the art of getting there is so different, both Rose and Sandra seem to effortlessly get the meal on the table. When Sandra is preparing the meal, both Rose and I have plenty to say and give lots of advice that is usually ignored. As Sandra chops nonchalantly away, Rose and I sneak the ingredients out of the bowl. I neatly trim the corners cutting off the ends of the vegetables, and Rose skins and deseeds the tomatoes.

On the other hand, when Rose is preparing her meals, Sandra and I just watch appreciatively. She has that Martha Stewart touch, the talent to turn both the preparation and the meal into a work of art. It is like watching a symphony conductor lead a perfect rendition of a difficult classical piece.

We seldom meet in my kitchen because I don’t really cook. I have neither the flowing artistic Sandra style nor the more disciplined classic Rose style. My mode can best be described as the order out style. It is not that I don’t have a nice kitchen, because I do, but it is more often used as an office than a place to create a meal. I have high speed access, microwave popcorn, and on line menus for all the delivery services.

We met over 20 years ago at an organizing meeting for Single Mothers by Choice. Even our methods of motherhood were as varied as our kitchen styles. I adopted a three year old daughter who was orphaned in Korea. Sandra had a child conceived during a torrid love affair with a married congressman. When she found out that she was pregnant, she picked up and moved out of town and conveniently forgot to pass along her forwarding address or phone number.

Rose selected artificial insemination. She spent months pouring over the bios of donors, selecting the hair color, eyes, education, and background. She then assured that there would be enough sample left for a second pregnancy, which she did exactly two years after the birth of her son.

When we met our kids were all about the same age, ranging from Rose’s youngest at 3 to Sandra’s six year old daughter. They often played together when young, but once they graduated to puberty, they had little in common. Sandra’s daughter, Nicole, not surprisingly, was the drama queen, always on stage even when the theatre was dark. Elliot, Rose’s son, was already an accountant at the age of five. He could tell you how many coins were in his piggy bank, what year and where they were minted. My daughter, Gemma, took to computer at a very young age and by the time she was in high school, she was making a living creating web pages. Gemma would sit in the kitchen at the computer for hours, but like me, seldom used the room for cooking. Rose’s younger daughter, Katie, is now in her second year of medical school at Yale University.

Somehow even with the stark contradictions of our lives, we were drawn to each other as fast friends. We have spent years in and out of our homes, attending our kids’ events, supporting each other during our low times, and arguing over nearly everything. Since our kids have left the nests, we have begun to turn our attention to other things. With the same determination that has driven most of our decisions over the years, we have decided to take on the challenge of overcoming our current state of singleness. Together we have joined Parents without Partners, the Single wine Group, the Just over Fifty lunch bunch, the Single Express, the Book Club for Singles, and Power Dating for the Older Crowd.

Tonight we will meet in my kitchen. Sandra will supply the cheese and who knows what else platter, Rose is bringing the bottles of wine, and I am supplying the high speed access. We will eat our cheese, sip our wine, and cook up a new kind of dish - the recipe for finding love on line.