Salad and a Home Full of Beloved Guests

by Amy

“It had become a sort of tradition, these informal Friday evening barbeques at the Gamache place.”

Don’t you love those?

In these gatherings, friends and family mingle informally. Friends that are like family and the family that comes is the family that counts as the best of friends.

These are the gatherings where people are in and out of the kitchen and an outsider might have a hard time telling, for sure, who the hosts of the “party” are. It’s the kind of get together where the invitation sounds like an afterthought, when it is voiced at all, but everyone feels at home and invited.

This is such a wonderfully written scene. If you’re in a mood for a reread, grab your copy of The Long Way Home and read Chapter 3. Part of the power in the scene resides in the fact that we know these characters, too, and we feel close to them. The magic is that we are part of the scene. We, too, are invited into the Gamache’s home and are privy to these wonderful interactions.

Part of why I love this scene is because I can relate. I like having people over, but am not the kind of hostess who sets a beautiful fancy table with amazing dishes. I tend to be the kind of hostess who adopts guests and soon treats them like family. They are spoiled – when I can spoil them – and left to their own devices when I cannot.

I have said before that I can very much relate to Reine-Marie as a character. I see similarities to myself – although I wish I had all her wisdom and grace as well. She is just my kind of hostess. Always willing to add one more plate to the table or make an extra bed for a guest; but also perfectly content to be served at the bistro or enjoy someone else’s hospitality.

One of the joys in this scene is that Louise Penny scattered gems all over the scene. The bit where Gamache pretending to want to man the barbeque, although Monsieur Beliveau was more interested and probably more qualified for the job. Gabri flaunting his designer outfit. Ruth’s endearments… and Rosa’s disdain for Henri’s puppy love. Only Louise Penny would find a way to turn dog fart into poetry – and a philosophical reflection on steadfastness and courage.

Ruth and Rosa were now looking at the shepherd with something close to awe. The old poet took a deep breath, the exhaled, turning the toxic gas into poetry.“You forced me to give you poisonous gifts,”  she quoted from her famous work.I can put this no other way.Everything I gave was to get rid of youAs one gives to a beggar: There. Go Away.But Henri, the brave and gaseous shepherd, did not go away. Ruth looked at him in disgust, but offered one withered hand to Henri, to lick.And he did.

One of my own favorite gems, though, is the glimpse into Reine-Marie and Gamache’s marriage:

Reine-Marie moved among their friends, who were scattered around the garden, catching bits of conversations in French, in English, most in a mélange of the two languages.She looked over and saw Armand listening attentively as Vincent Gilbert told a story. It must have been funny, probably self-deprecating, because Armand was smiling. Then he talked, gesturing with his beer as he spoke.When he finished the Gilberts laughed, as did Armand. Then he caught her eye, and his smile broadened.

The intimacy isn’t in doing everything together. They rarely do, in fact. The closeness of their tie lies in their ability to connect, even when they are doing their own work, carrying on a separate conversation, living their own life. They have a rich and incredible relationship where they are both independent and full of life and dreams and plans, and they support each other, but don’t necessarily always walk side by side in every project.

Again, I can relate.

And then there’s Myrna.

“I left a bag of books for you in the living room,” Myrna said to Reine-Marie.

Really?! Isn’t that the best dinner guest EVER? Forget bringing wine or dessert. A bag of curated books?! Perfect.

Which reminds me. Yesterday I mentioned to my husband that although I am not working and still trying to figure out what our new budget is in a new country, I cannot live without buying books. He laughed and said, “I don’t care. If we run out of food we’ll just eat your books.” I think I fell a little bit more in love with him right then.

Myrna poured herself a white wine and noticed the bouquet in the center of the table. Tall, effusive, crammed with blooms and foliage.
Myrna wasn’t sure she should tell Reine-Marie they were mostly weeds. […] She’d been through the flower beds with Armand and Reine-Marie many times, helping to bring order to the tangled mess. She thought she’d been clear about the difference between the flowers and the weeds. Another lesson was in order.“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Reine-Marie said, offering Myrna a morsel of smoked trout on rye.Myrna smiled. City folk.[…]Myrna smiled at the weed centerpiece, still amused. And then she stopped smiling and noticed something. It was really beautiful.

Isn't this scene just sprinkled with inspiring interactions? This week I’d been thinking about how, as a parent, it’s sometimes a challenge to ignore the things that “need to be done” or taught or fixed, in order to allow time for the things that should be done. Things like cloud watching, snuggling, hearing (in detail) the ramblings on Minecraft or Pokemon… And, sometimes, in trying to teach children – or grown friends – the distinction between the flowers and the weeds, we miss the chance to see the beauty in the weeds. Reine-Marie was right. Who cares if they’re weeds? They were beautiful!

I recently had an impromptu dinner party. I wasn`t sure who was coming and when they would get here. There was a broad spectrum in food preferences and palates, but I had a little bit of everything so everyone was happy – I hope. The one thing I made with myself in mind (although there were no leftovers) was the salad.

Bowls of salad were passed around and Sarah gave Monsieur Beliveau the largest of the dinner rolls she’d made that afternoon, while he gave her the tenderest piece of steak. They leaned toward each other, not quite touching.

In this scene, they do eat salad, but we’re not told which kind. I thought that was a perfect opening for me to share my current favorite!

And Louise Penny closes the dinner scene with Henri’s reflections. It’s beautiful and poignant and such a wonderful definition of home and family. Considering that I am in the process of creating a new home here, having friends – like family – crowd in my kitchen and eat salad – among other things – and help build the bonds that make a house a home… This scene was especially apt.

Emilie.The elderly woman who’d found him at the shelter when he was a puppy. Who’d brought him home. Who’d named him and loved him and raised him, until the day she was no longer there and the Gamaches had come and taken him away. He’d spent months searching for her. Sniffing for her scent. Perking up his ears at the sound of every car arriving. Every door opening. Waiting for Emilie to find him again. To rescue him again, and take him home. Until one day he no longer watched. No longer waited. No longer needed rescuing.[…] The balm, he wanted to tell [Rosa] wasn’t anger or fear or isolation. He’d tried those. They hadn’t worked.Finally, into that terrible hole Henri had poured the only thing left. What Emilie had given him.
[…] Until one day the pain and loneliness and sorrow were no longer the biggest thing in his heart.
He still loved Emilie, but now he also loved Armand and Reine-Marie.And they loved him.That was home. He’d found it again.

Sigh.

I am grateful because there are people to love – and be loved by – in so many parts of the world. Because of that, there will always be homes far away from home that will be missed. There will also always be a chance to find home again. And again. And again, if needed.

Chickpea Salad

No secret to it.

1 can of chickpea beans

Grape tomatoes

Shredded carrots

Fresh basil – if you have it

Quartered cucumber or celery slices – I’m sure summer zucchini would be great, too

A few tablespoons of olive oil

A generous squeeze of lemon juice

A sprinkle of chopped parsley

About half a cup of crumbled feta - when I ran out of feta I just added parmesan or cottage cheese

Toss and enjoy.

I’ve made this quite a few times the past few weeks. With slight variations.