Since I’ve been on the road, I’ve been craving good Mexican food. I’ve identified highly rated restaurants and local joints in several places I’ve camped near.
But circumstances, timing and laziness prevented me from eating at any of these places.
Instead I’ve eaten at Dos Tacos (fast food), Chipotle (I didn’t get e-coli) and a touristy place in Silver City (meh).
But yesterday, with much planning and forethought, I managed to find myself at a great little place in Flagstaff Arizona at dinner time and ready to eat.
You could say it was my time for Mexican Nirvana.
Except it wasn’t.
The service was fast. The drive through girl was cute and sweet. The price was right.
I left the restaurant with my takeout order- 2 cheese enchiladas and a nachos supreme. It was late. It was dark. It was cold and rainy.
Instead of driving back to my camp and eating my food cold, I pulled into a shopping center parking lot and ate it while it was still hot. I listened to the radio, shared some with Snickers and gobbled down my dinner.
The food was delicious.
But I didn’t enjoy it as much as I had expected.
For the past 5 weeks, I’ve eaten every meal alone (except for Snickers, of course). Breakfast is eggs, chicken and vegetables. Dinner is a can of tuna or salmon, vegetables, cheese and fruit. If I’m feeling particularly ambitious or hungry, I’ll cook a burger.
I eat sitting on my door step. I don’t even bother setting up my camp chair most days.
I’ll listen to NPR on the radio. I eat. I relax a little. I unwind.
After dinner I’ll walk Snickers if the weather is nice and she’s up to it. Or I’ll join a community campfire if we have one. Or I’ll read, call someone, write, plan my upcoming route, or surf the web.
I eat alone all the time. It’s fine. I’m used to it.
But I realized why I didn’t love my Mexican dinner last night
It was because I was alone.
For 29 years, I ate dinner with my wife. Sometimes we ate the same food. Other times, we’d eat different things. But always, we ate together.
In the last five years, I was often able to eat breakfast or lunch with Ellen too.
We’d talk. We’d read the paper. We’d watch TV. We’d laugh.
I loved dinner with Ellen. It was our time.
Before I met Ellen, I ate alone most of the time – but not all of the time. When I ate alone it was perfunctory. I was shoveling food down while reading something.
The good times were when I was eating with others.
- Hanging out with my friends often included pizza, McDonald’s or the midnight buffet at Eat’n’Park.
- Date nights frequently included dinner.
- Movie night meant sharing popcorn and candy.
- Sleepovers meant cookouts or omelets or getting creative with whatever’s in the freezer.
- Once a week, Mom night was dinner after school and work
We ate. We enjoyed each others company. We laughed. We talked.
What I understand now is that if I want to savor good food, if I want to enjoy the experience, if I want to remember something special, I can’t eat alone.
I might just skip eating out altogether from now on unless I have company. Summer is around the corner and people are starting to camp more. Even here, in the remote forest there are 15 other campsites within 1/2 mile of where I sit. I’m hoping I will find a few people to share a meal with soon.
Until then, a can of tuna, a handful of nuts, a few fresh vegetables and a hunk of cheese will hold me over.