the whole plate.

“the adventurous spirit.”

vegan corn, roasted pepper, and scallion ravioli with tomato “cream” sauce.

It’s 2005, the final weekend of September in London, and 19 year old Leslie is on a plane at 6AM, about to island hop from Britain to Ireland.  The middle-aged couple sharing my row are complaining about their £7 chicken sandwich; I am questioning why one would order a chicken sandwich at that hour.  Stowed by my seat is a maroon bag affectionately titled my “weekender;” amidst the clothes stuffed inside sit my passport, with its single stamp, and two cell phones, one for the US, one for the UK.

Just a few days earlier, I had booked a £9 plane ticket on RyanAir to Dublin, where I would meet a friend studying in Paris for 40 hours of Irish exploration.  Of those hours, we would sleep about 6, spending the remaining time exploring and experiencing.  That Saturday, we took a 6AM train out to the green coast on the recommendation of a Londoner I met on my train to the airport, who had asked if I could please wake him up when we arrived.  That night, we crawled into bed at 4AM due to Guinness and too much fun.  

That was five years ago.  In 2007, I had to wait in line at the oh-so-bureaucratic US embassy in Prague to get more pages added to my passport, because customs officers were running out of room to press their stamps.  I celebrated three birthdays in three different countries, climbed ruins from Malaga to Dubrovnik, discovered the simple power of learning to say “hello” and “thank you” in the language of the country you are visiting.  I grew up.  A lot.

Sometimes, I think that weekend in Dublin is when my life started.  It’s when I cemented the fact, once and for all, that I believe in living life with a sense of adventure.  Trying new foods.  Meeting new people.  Playing with fashion, experiencing art.  And traveling – anywhere, everywhere.

This past week, I chatted at a dinner table with my friend Danielle, who graduated from college this year – though you wouldn’t know it considering she’s stepped on her fair share of foreign soils.  A couple months ago, when she mentioned the idea of a post-graduate solo adventure across the country, it was all I could do not to squeal in anticipation of this newest journey.

In the spirit of Danielle’s impending exploration, I figured it would do me good to step beyond the five boroughs for a night.  So, we celebrated her departure with wining and dining at Haven, located outside the sweaty city in pretty Pleasantville.  While tasting each other’s locally-inspired plates, we talked about the present and the future and all the excitement of lands beyond New York state lines.

I love how that sense of adventure helps me to see every corner of life’s many possibilities, and I hope it sticks with me for every hour, day, and year that I’ve yet to live.  Something tells me: it will.

Related posts:

1. dinner 8.10: cafeteria.
2. dinner 12.10: chanukkah.
3. dinner 2.10: counter.