Stew, Typically Speaking

The call came at the end of the day from someone I’d interviewed at a world affairs conference, when I was still writing for Pacific Shipper.  My name must have been collecting dust in her Rolodex — and I could hear her desperation.  Could I possibly feed four visiting Indonesian journalists who were eager to experience a typical American family dinner? They’d eaten less than typical fare in top restaurants across the nation for a week, and now for their last dinner they wanted to see how Americans really ate.  After ignoring emphatic family advice, I decided to make them a very American stew. And rather anxious to please the foreign reporters, I abandoned reason, and decided to simmer the beef all day to bring on a new plateau of patriotic tenderness. The meat was still cooking when they arrived at 7, in high spirits, ready for some memorable American cooking. Once they were seated in our living room, we started off with a family favorite: cranberry juice and seltzer, which they found instantly revolting. “In Indonesia, we prefer to drink orange juice,” I was informed. My husband grabbed their juice glasses, and soon summoned me to join him in the kitchen. “This is inedible,” he declared, offering me a taste of the unbelievably over-cooked entree.  He then rushed out with their orange juice, and our four year old diplomatically began asking all about life in Indonesia, before guiding them upstairs to see Daisy, his pregnant guinea pig.  After peeking into her cage, two of the reporters shrieked and announced that rodents like this were killed on the spot back home.  Our son took the news gracefully, and led them downstairs for their much awaited American family dinner. Looking back, I suspect that Daisy would have tasted better than what I ladled on their plates. Maybe not.