El Meson – A recipe for disaster

“Why are we here?” Mary asked

It was a question that punched the awkward silence, as they were ushered to a romantic table at El Meson, a delightful restaurant in Rice Village, one of those trendy restaurant and bar districts where a cosmopolitan combination of food and drink origins are designed for a giddy and memorable culinary experience, add interesting cocktails, and the phrase; heaven on earth, has a more profound and vivid sensory meaning.

Tonight, at the El Meson the taste buds were going to be exposed to a European cuisine – Espanol. A unique and unusual experience in Texas, where geography and ethnic origins conjure up a different mix when considering Latino cuisine, sometimes the European origins are a forgotten gastronomy which pale into insignificance when compared to the spicy and boisterous Tex-Mex, and Mexican delights, and rightly so.

The narrator digresses, this is not a short cookbook story! More like a boiling plot story.

There was nowhere, anywhere a more perfect place for a quiet intimate romantic dinner. If this was a first date, the ambience, the service, the food would have been impeccable to impress any man’s cherie d’amour. Unfortunately, the occasion was the opposite to a first date, the man, Jacob needed to woo, to charm his wife of many years, on a life changing opportunity and decision he had already verbally agreed upon. The trusted relationship improvement guidebooks: “How to have a successful marriage” had been thrown out of the window, by his selfish ambition under the guise of limited options, the imaginary of a shrug of shoulders in his biased mind had created justification – “what else could I do?” but this attitude lacked any shared responsibility. He knew from experience convincing his wife of the merits of his decision would be a difficult insurmountable challenge. His emotions were like a first date, nervously on edge, emotionally draining, with the eagerness to impress, attempting to persuade with charm, to convince and woo his wife, yet another time. The difference, however, were years of experience, a long-term living relationship. She knew he put his shirt before his trousers each morning. He knew he was up against it; the odds were stacked. So, this was no initial romantic encounter, a romantic dinner, to get to know one other, a potential prologue to further intimacy. This was a marital détente.

He avoided the question from Mary like the plague and changed the subject to the obvious.

“Let’s order, I’m starving, I hear their have some great gin cocktails.”

The atmosphere became charged with premeditated, yet to be uttered negotiations. But it takes two to discuss, and Mary thought the best method of defense against the imminent and expected wooing and charm, was to pose as the injured party, the victim of deceit and misrepresentation. The annoyed stony look on her face, the avoidance of eye contact, the haughtiness, without a glimmer of friendliness, Jacob knew that a romantic night in a trendy part of the city, at the highly recommended restaurant of El Meson was not going break the impasse.

The plan for the day had backfired, he thought, in an unexpected manner. He had neglected the part where Mary would be overwhelmed by the gigantic Texan house, and as they say in those parts – the yard. He was hoping for a yard with an equally gigantic pool. He had been preoccupied with the interview process, a full day with all the partners and owners of the small private consultancy firm, he had neglected to check on the planned realtor collecting Mary from the hotel, and spending most of the day looking at properties in various neighbourhoods. He found out later the realtor didn’t show, and Mary had spent the day in or around the hotel. A recipe for disaster.

His effervescent mood dissolved quicker than a neglected glass of sparkling wine, as he entered the hotel room, his positive day shattered like the same glass of sparkling wine, when he realized, he had omitted to make sure the Mary’s day was equally fulfilling. Her face was like thunder, and that haunting line, her words repeated itself in the restaurant – “Why are we here?”

He still rues that day.

It had started to come unraveled weeks before, if only he had kept his brain in gear and mouth closed at one of the prior interviews. His passion and enthusiasm always got the better of him in tense situations, he was always the impatient, impulsive chess player in life. Now he was sitting on the bed in the hotel room opposite the black queen, with a pawn’s chance to convince Mary of the merits of a gigantic and unexpected live upheaval. It really was the right opportunity, at the wrong time.

After years living abroad in a country where the captain announced on landing, “We’re about to land ladies and gentlemen, can you put your watches back 600 years.” The plan was to finally to settle back in the peaceful outer suburbs of London, known as the commuter belt. The struggles of finding and sponsoring appropriate schools to educate the five children when they reached the age of 14 years, had gone past the tipping point when the two eldest children left the nest overseas on long leashes from distant parenting. Once the third reached the age of 14 years, there was no other choice but to resettle into the main house and dwelling in England, as Jacob continued to earn the salary abroad. It could never last, it lasted long enough, and Jacob jumped the proverbial ship, and handed his notice to quit, hoping to find employment in England.

Like most plans in life, it didn’t work out as planned. Two opportunities came and went, and there was only one last resort, as the song goes: “deep in the heart of Texas” – not exactly the heart – the job was in Houston. These guys were going all out to make sure Jacob would be their man. They hadn’t encountered the unwillingness of Mary. The unwillingness came from a previous brief marriage with US armed forces guy, where she had been left abandoned in Japan. It’s another story, another day, and 3000 words would not give it justice. Two of the boys were already in the US the day we landed in the lone star state, one in San Diego, and the other in university exchange year at Virginia Tech.

Jacob had used the enticement of visiting Mary’ sons spread out in different directions, to encourage a “fear of flying” woman to board a plane, and try to obliterate her claustrophobic fears, by drowning herself the contents of the inflight drinks trolley.  The trip to Houston was framed by Jacob to Mary as a side trip, Jacob thought there was no need to go into detail. It was a mistake. The complete lack of communication collapsed before the pre-dinner cocktails arrived. The not so innocent enquiry “Why are we here?” was followed by a more damning announcement. “There’s no way I’m living here!”

There really wasn’t much to say after these statements from Mary, the food could have cooked by Ferran Adria, both the taste buds of Mary and Jacob were now in sombre denial, and planned romantic interlude was completely out of place as the strained silence caused by overworked minds inhibited any enjoyable conversation. The mood was tense, so tense that every scrape of an instrument of cutlery, any tiny movement on the table only accentuated the solemn silence.

The matter, the opportunity was never discussed, not until days perhaps a week later. Eventually, Jacob flew out to Houston, and Mary remained behind with the children, Jacob often drove by the Espanol restaurant of El Meson in Rice Village, when he lived in the city, and remembered that dinner, shuddering with the thought of every moment and mouthful. The worst time in the best restaurant, a paradoxical event that with time will be laughed about.