Alex's Kitchen Nightmares- Thu 2/19/09

Dear All,

My hosts opened a new restaurant on Valentine's evening, It is billed as homestyle Thai food geared up a few notches to appeal to a more discerning crowd. It is an amazing mix of highbrow and lowbrow and physically the place is phenomenally beautiful. The food is fantastic too and not at all like what you would get at a standard Thai restaurant. There is the most delicious roasted duck in a red curry, crispy fritters with mussels and egg, pomelo salad with prawns, the list goes on and on.

Opening night was quite a rush. I had planned on observing and helping out in small ways but this was not to be. Most of the guests came at the same time and before we knew it the kitchen was 30 orders deep and sinking fast. The staff was still unfamiliar with the dishes and just couldn't get them out fast enough. I'm not saying I had to jump in and save the day because that wasn't the situation at all. Rather, they needed all the help they could get and so instead of being sidelined I worked solidly without taking a breather for 4 hectic hours. Now my host is telling me that I channeled my inner Gordon Ramsay. She's right. I may have gotten a bit passionate but hey, kitchens are passionate places. It was awesome, but more importantly, we got through the service and everyone got their food despite the long wait.

A few days before the opening we had the ceremony to bless the new building. By now I figure that you all are familiar with the way typical ceremonies work here in Bali. Large amounts of offerings are brought in. A priest rings a bell and splashes everyone and everything with holy water. We all get raw rice ground into our foreheads. Animals die.

Cock-fights and prayers, blood and flowers. That's pretty much how it goes.

I've discovered something unexpected during my repeated forays into the world of cockfighting. I'm really good at it. It must be all those years I spent upstate on the farm. I can now spot an strong, ornery and aggressive rooster more accurately than a boatload of Balinese.

That being said, when the chef asked me for money, I gave him some. When he told me to pick which cock was going to win the fight, I chose. I almost didn't realize that I had just bet on the death of an animal. Needless to say, my cock triumphed and I was left with the guilt of having been a part of the whole spectacle. I was handed my winnings and I brought them right over to my host and asked if she knew of any local charities I could donate to to assuage my guilt. I figured there must be something like a "Save The Cocks" Foundation that could benefit from my poor judgment.



I haven't said enough about the interplay of religion and life here in Bali. In every other place I have been in the world, religion occupies a place. It is usually limited to some special edifice where people go to pray. Of course that happens in Bali as well, but here worship is not limited to the temple. You don't go someplace to worship, you worship everywhere. There is a temple in every house. Offerings are laid at your doorstep to keep out the evil spirits. Your job site is a place that must be transformed through ritual. These things, and hundreds more, need to happen every single day, multiple times a day. The religion is everywhere you look, an integral part of everything you see.

So why is it that every time I go to a ceremony, I am struck by strong feelings of the mundane. Everything but the cockfight feels routine, habitual, non-intentional. It is so ingrained in everyday life that it ceases to seem special and without this familiar otherness, it ceases to seem holy.

At one end of the compound the Priest sat on his podium conducting the ritual. The womenfolk sat nearby in a huddled mass. At the other end of the building, the cockfights were eagerly held by the men. The cockfights are like an ecstatic ritual unto themselves. When one bird buries its blade into the other one, a cry of elation rises up. Half the men instantly adopt the grimaces of defeat. The other half can barely contain their glee. I saw one of the restaurant managers giggling like a madman. They cut the birds up while they are still in the throes of death.

It can be jarring, the intensity of such contradictions. Most of the time I truly enjoy the contrast and contradictions but sometimes it gets to be just a little too much. Sometimes I lose my calm, cool exterior and just feel unsettled. This, also, is how it goes.

I guess it bothers me because I think religion should be a certain way. It bothers me because it has been that way in all other places. And of course, I catch myself because this way of thinking is nothing but trouble. It avoids the issue and distracts from the real thing that is bothering me. The fact is, I have expectations about some aspects of life here without meaning to. It is not that anything "should be" a particular way, but rather that it "is". The only way to deal with crazy, perplexing crap is to just accept it and learn what you can from it but not to come to conclusions about it. In the most arrogant fashion, that approach just cuts you off from the flood of depth and possibility available in these experiences. When that happens, it is a sure sign that it is time to recenter.

Love,
Alex

Part of the opening ceremony

Oy.

The Chicken I didn't pick.