Socially Awkward Woman’s Foodie Tour #1

The whole career transition has left me needing a break from my everyday life so I spent a recent day in the company of really good people. Somehow there is nothing more reviving than spending a few hours with friends away from your regularly scheduled life. I’m not certain why I forget this, but I do — every time — until I’m with my friends. Then I become acutely introspective and thankful that God has graced my life with such warm, wonderful, confidence-giving women. I have never possessed the strength of self-confidence. Pigheadedness aplenty! A wish to make others believe in themselves is like a need for air and water. But I have never loved myself, and I believe that’s why God has brought particular people into my life to prove two things to me:

  1. I’m worth being loved by someone outside my own family because friends choose to love you instead of feeling obligated by blood.
  2. I need to love myself by choice as well. I don’t have to excuse my faults. Rather I need to work on my faults, but I need to learn to love myself.

So this somewhat sentimental beginning brings me to the foodie experience I had with my friends on Saturday.

Be honest. If many of us are facing an awkward situation, it’s always better to have our friends along for the ride. I love trying new restaurants, but being an S.A.W. (socially awkward woman), I always prefer company in a new place. One of my wonderful friends had picked a Japanese & Mongolian grill as our dining establishment for the evening. Right away we discovered that playing the newbie card was necessary. As we waited to be seated, we puzzled over the layout of the restaurant. Grill to the left and grill to the back. Tables, chairs, and booths between. We were trying to figure out the pattern here, and I don’t mind saying that I felt my Southern redneck was showing in my confusion.

When a host approached us to be seated, we were asked if we wanted the Hibachi grill or the Mongolian grill. That was when one of my (not socially awkward) friends played our first newbie card with something along the lines of “we don’t know because we’ve never been here before.” After a brief, if still slightly confusing, explanation, we settled on the Mongolian grill. After ordering our drinks and staring at the menus, our server returned, and I decided to play the newbie card. After telling him we had never been there (and displaying the universally confused look), he graciously explained the concept.

  1. Here’s your metal bowl – fill it with all the meats and/or veggies you want. (I won’t lie! I felt a little like Rover being sent to find my own food.)
  2. Here’s your metal ramekin – fill it with the mystery sauce of your choice (Because everyone wants to stand in the front of a line of people while tasting new and interesting — possibly mouth searing — sauces.)
  3. Here’s your name card – write your name on it, pick your side from the handy dandy photos, and keep up with said piece of card stock while juggling previously mentioned Rover bowl and ramekin.
  4. Now I send you off into Mongolian Grill-Land!

Hmmmm….now here’s where you start observing other people, and if need be, you chat them up a little so you don’t feel like a totally ignorant foodie. I watched as everyone in front of us packed and organized their Rover bowls, and then I stepped up to the meats. Looking back now, I see that filling the bowl is an art form. It’s a finite space, and you have to fit everything you want them to cook into Rover’s little feeding dish so put some thought into it.

Now being an S.A.W., I just wanted to get through the line without being noticed so I just carefully but quickly piled up my raw chicken, mushrooms, broccoli, and cabbage and sidled out of the way. Still being an S.A.W. just moments later, I had zero interest in sampling multiple sauces before deciding which suited my Southern meat-and-three palate so I just picked one that sounded good by name and swung for the invisible fence. Honey citrus sounded sweet and tangy so I put some in the little metal ramekin. (I’m really glad now that I only filled it halfway because the previously assumed sweet and tangy had a slightly heated kick in the end.) Finally I slid my Rover bowl, sauce, and name card to a kind looking gentleman at the Mongolian grill, and I made my way back to the booth with my friends.

As we sat waiting for our food, we all commented on how oddly bereft we felt without our little Rover bowls. It was as if we had gone to the buffet, filled a plate with our favorite things, and left it for someone else to enjoy. However the payoff came only minutes later when all three meals arrived hot from the grill, and we proceeded into contented food-filled silence.

I can almost hear some of the laughter now. As in, how has this woman not been to a place like this before? Does she live under a rock? Well, no, I live inside a brick house in a medium-sized town in the South. My view is this: It’s a big world, and some of us are blessed to experience a lot of it in our lifetimes, and that’s exactly what you should do. However some of us only get to experience little pieces of that big world a little at a time which means most of the time we live in a really small world. And that’s okay, too, because that’s all some of us get to do or want to do. I don’t judge either way.

Socially awkward or not, I just accept my little Rover bowl as graciously as I can. I’ll fill it with all the good things I can get in there — big or small. But I’ll remember not to compare it to anyone else’s because after all, it isn’t their Rover bowl.

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