the garden dinner

three days into blackberry and i have digested enough information to fill three heads.  it’s amazing:  the detail.  the behind the scenes.  the thought processes.  the team work.  the collaborative effort of managing and servicing guests is an astronomical endeavor of coordination, anticipation, and execution. 

my second night at blackberry was capped off with a garden dinner.  oftentimes throughout the calendar year blackberry will highlight a certain aspect of their offerings.  garden month, for example, takes place in august.  special garden-centric events take place daily highlighting the harmony between kitchen and field.  with just shy of ten cumulative hours since touching down on the property, I found myself in the awesome, although unfamiliar position of representing a world class hotel, and interacting with guests. 

on one hand, the idea of simply talking to folks doesn’t sound like a very big deal.  certainly nothing to fret about.  unless of course, thoughtful conversation is a challenge for you in the first place.

but on the other hand, talking to folks, while representing something very specific, something of the highest caliber, in a setting where your conversation counterpart has paid his/her own money to be present, is certainly more than just a conversation.  gotta bring your “a” game, to say the least.

so here i am, having yet done nothing to deserve any sweet reward, or well deserved perk, being treated with the opportunity to assist with the garden dinner.  guests who were interested in eating dinner down on the farm, instead of in the formal dining room (the culinary barn), enjoyed a two hour garden-side, chef-prepared feast accompanied by a live folk duet. 

my job, as a farmer, was simply to sit down at a table with guests and enjoy my time.  enjoy the feast.  what a beautiful assignment. 

the food—I can’t describe it justly.  there’s no way.  it’s as if every morsel, every molecule of foodstuff prepared by a blackberry chef, is the most delicate, most delicious, most flavorful nibble that has ever slid across your gustatory buds.  each bite, chew, and swallow evokes almost sarcastic, eye-rolling smiles by the guests as they try to wrap their heads around the idea that: yes.  it is true.  this bite, the last bite, the next bite, and every bite forward while they are on this property—every single bite is one of the best they will ever bite.  almost too much to process.

and so, I too--delighted by the garden-side culinary showcase--sat back in my wooden chair and smiled. listening to the fiddle, enjoying good conversations with good people, and feeling blessed, I successfully completed my first test of hosting the guests—something I plan do to professionally for the rest of my years.

one of the guests at my table, an experienced chef from down georgia, was shocked when the details finally came out that he—the guest—had more likely had more experience on the property than i—the hosting farmer.  and after dinner, when I reported this amusing bit to the farmstead manager, he quipped, “I mean, it’s your second day on property—not your second day being intelligent.”

a simple fact, but a reassuring one, as we embark on an entire year of new and foreign experiences. 

be aware, be thoughtful, and be intelligent.  be here now:  it's the only truth you need.