retrospective: the olde pink house

Suzy and I had been dating for a couple of years, and we decided that we should go to Savannah, GA for our first multi-day getaway. We made reservations at the Marshall House, the city's oldest hotel, dating back to 1861. It has a gorgeous exterior, complete with a wrought iron second-story porch on the front. The authentic 19th-century features (clawfoot tubs, original doors, windows, rails, and moldings) are charming, but this is no fixer-upper. We had all the latest modern amenities. (The hotel is also supposedly haunted, a big selling point for me...not so much for Suzy.)

How relaxing does this look?

But while we were on our trip, we had one of the most amazing meals! We had reservations that evening at The Olde Pink House, which is actually connected to the Planter's Inn (another historic hotel). The building--actually an 18th century mansion--looks like it was painted in Pepto Bismol. And like its color inspiration, it will do wonders for your tummy!

Our table was in what used to be the living room. The restaurant has kept the layout of an old(e) house, which adds great character and makes the restaurant seem very quaint and intimate since there are only a few tables in each room. It was a little weird when I asked the waiter where the bathroom was and he said, "Go out into the foyer, up the main staircase, through the second room to the right." But it didn't matter...the food was unbe-freakin-lievable!

Dead serious: I think our table was the two-top straightaway in front of the window.

We decided to try the Chateau Saint Michelle Merlot with our meal, which ended up being a great choice. It is not expensive at all ($15-20/bottle in most grocery stores), but it is easy to drink and goes with pretty much anything. We started by splitting fried calamari, and I had a wedge salad (my favorite) while Suzy tried the mixed green salad with pecans and goat cheese.

Then came the brilliance from the kitchen. Suzy ordered the bourbon molasses grilled pork tenderloin. It was served in medallions, drizzled with a reduction sauce made from the marinade, along with a sweet potato and collard greens. If you've got a sweet tooth, this is the dish for you! Layers upon layers of buttery and sugary flavors, with just-enough of a slightly bitter/acidic taste from the collards.

I had their signature item: flounder with apricot shallot glaze. Whoever came up with this dish should be awarded an honorary doctorate from SCAD, because it is a work of art! The flounder is served whole (that might freak out some people...it did Suzy), and it's been scored in a diagonal crossing pattern and coated with the apricot shallot sauce. It gets baked first, letting the semi-sweet fruit flavor cook into the fish. Then it gets flash fried to give it a crispy outer layer. And because it's been scored, you get these perfect fork-sized squares of flaky deliciousness every time you take a bite. One of the best fish items I've ever had.

After dinner, we went downstairs to the piano bar to listen to some music before going for an evening walk.

It has been four years since we went there, but even as recently as last night, Suzy and I talked about this meal. It was that good.

By now, you're probably thinking: What the heck does this have to do with faith? Short answer: Nothing...

...But that dinner was delicious enough to make you believe that the Creator of the universe was in that kichen, cooking up another beautiful creation for human beings to enjoy.
(How's that for "meaningful"?)

retrospective: a feast in the desert

As I’ve begun to build this blog, I’ve been reflecting on some of the transformative moments I’ve experienced around the table in the past. So I’ve decided to occasionally offer a retrospective reflection on some of these meals (which will also help when I need some quick material to write about!). So here’s the first of the series.

In January of 2008, I had the opportunity to travel to Egypt with fellow students from the Wake Forest University School of Divinity for a cultural immersion trip. We were there to experience Christianity as a minority religion, and to learn about and promote interfaith dialogue. The following is from an online journal I kept while I was there:

There wasn’t much hot water in the hotel this morning, so after a cold shower we headed to Wadi Natrun, an area in the desert with several active Coptic monasteries and the historical birthplace of monasticism. It was still hard to believe that we were actually in Egypt. Even as I looked out of the bus window at the Pyramids, the shroud of morning mist rising from the Nile made them seem like a mirage.

When we arrived at the Saint Bishoy monastery we were greeted by Father Cedrac, who gave us a tour of the monastery and told us about monastic life. I was particularly interested in the dining room. The domed ceiling not only helped to keep the room cool, but it had an acoustic value, too. It amplified the sound of someone’s voice from across the table (which was literally across the room!), so that you could hear them, and they you.


We ran over our allotted time for the tour and missed our lunch appointment, so Father Cedrac, in true hospitality, offered to feed more than 20 of us! It was a simple meal of pita and fava beans with lemon and cumin, and hot tea to drink, but the table fellowship we experienced was amazing. Not only did we share the food, but we also had to work cooperatively to mash the beans, add the spices, and serve each other. We finished it off with a sweet sesame seed dessert (think baklava with a denser consistency and less nutty).


It was almost surreal—another “mirage” of sorts—to sit in this sacred place in the middle of the desert, surrounded by people from four different faith traditions, everyone sharing this meal together. An interfaith dialogue erupted as Father Cedrac and our Muslim tour guide, Amr (pronounced "ah-mr," even though we called him "Amr the Hammer"). What began with a boil soon simmered, and then reduced as the flavors of these two faiths came together, affirming the good in the other while denouncing the evil, fanaticism, and ignorance in their own. We didn’t come to any conclusions or figure out how to live together as distinct and different people(s), but I don’t think we could have (or should have). Amr said of those types of dialogues, “There are just question marks. No comments.”

What we experienced that day in the desert was a celebration of our common humanity, communicating honestly and openly and sharing our most basic human resource: food. A simple meal in a desert place became a sacred feast around a common table. We saw in action what the architecture of the monastery’s dining room was meant for—hearing the Other’s voice around the table.

What experiences of interfaith dialogue have you had? Have you ever gained understanding of someone very different from you over a meal? What can we do to hear one another better, even when we differ?

Father Cedrac, teaching us about Coptic Christian monasticism. This was right before he answered his cell phone (no lie!).

Amr showing us how to mash up the fava beans to create a hummus-like spread.