The story below is from our May/June 2019 issue. For the full issue Subscribe today, view our FREE interactive digital edition or download our FREE iOS app!
Our dining writer explains why fine dining – even on a school night! – can be rewarding and relaxing.
John Park
A dinner at Frankie Rowland's, one of many restaurants offering fine dining in Roanoke.
There’s something I’ve been considering these days; a claim of sorts I’d like to make. Or, at least consider. And, I’d like to consider it with you, my faithful Roanoker dining readers. On the surface, I realize, this claim may present as brash. Self-indulgent, even. But I’m willing to risk it; only with you. For I’m counting on your keen intellect and generous spirit in hearing me out.
We need the experience of fine dining in our lives. Why?
For beauty’s sake.
Let me explain.
Recently, my husband and I abandoned our teenagers to a half homemade meal: frozen pizzas, tossed salad and some cut apples in a bowl, while we dined downtown at Frankie Rowland’s. It was a Wednesday evening, our heavy ‘to do’ lists were hanging from our shoulders, as were all the torments ‘to-do’ lists inevitably contain.
Now let me be frank. Partaking in an elegant meal on a Wednesday night didn’t happen because of my deep conviction for the altruistic benefits of fine dining. Please. It was an item on my list. It was a work dinner we were squeezing in between our kids’ sports stuff, extra work-related stuff, as well as a host of other responsibilities we’ve acquired by virtue of adulting.
So, there we were, checking a box, trying to pretend our cell phones weren’t extensions of our arms and time wasn’t racing by.
Except, as soon as we were seated, my phone magically vanished from my mind and time stopped racing. In fact, it suspended all together. As I adjusted my eyes to the warmth of yellow glow and white linen, something inside me adjusted, too. The feel of the tablecloth on my wrists, the slow gracefulness of the server as she took our napkins and handed them to us to lay across our laps, even the fibers of the napkin cloth itself; all of it slowed me down and focused my senses—thus, my attention—to the time at hand. A time for fellowship. A time for feast.
It was a slow feast. A nearly three-hour feast. The smell of my wine before each sip, the sparkling of flavors on my palate, every clink of my fork against my plate. The expanding space for conversation with my husband. It was a time soaked through with beauty. How could I not help but become soaked through with the beauty of it, too?
Here is where fine dining does its best work. I remember the owner of Chateau Morrisette once telling me when they seat guests at a table they expect that table to be taken for the evening. Their greatest desire is for diners to be fully immersed in the food, wine and fellowship in which they are partaking. The only way to do this is to slow down. Inhale the aromas. Take slow bites of food. Taste the harmony of textures and flavors. Consider the miracle of land, animals and human effort involved for this single meal—at this very moment—to be set in front of you. Take time. Fellowship with others at the table. Share.
We are blessed in Roanoke with places to dine which help us slow down and be fully present to the beauty of life. Places like Frankie Rowland’s and Chateau Morrisette where abundance of time is given for each course. Attentive servers who quietly orchestrate the flow of dishes and drinks, creating an atmosphere whereby our minds and emotions quiet while our senses are stirred. And where experts in food and wine pairing guide us in selecting the perfect wine to complement each course; drink notes harmonizing with food flavors, bringing out tastes we might not have recognized otherwise.
We have places like Carlos Brazilian Cuisine that offer beautiful views and help us celebrate the ethnic diversity of our area in a slow, sumptuous way. And places like River and Rail and Local Roots (more casual, but no less fine), committed to connecting diners with our particular land and the local farmers dedicated to stewarding it. Through the creativity of chefs committed to using local ingredients in season, we become ever more rooted to this bountiful place of Southwest Virginia.
There is the intimacy of dining spaces at Lucky’s and Fortunato (not to mention their fantastically creative cocktails and dining menu). And the celebratory abundance of the Regency Room’s brunch…I could go on. These are the kinds of dining experiences where we are brought into a special kind of relationship. One that ultimately pulls us out of our inward gazing and into fellowship with others.
In truth, my claim is more of a commending. I wish to commend fine dining to us as an engagement. A participation, if you will. Even as a meditation and communion.
When we participate fully in the fine dining experience we may be surprised to find ourselves filled with something more than food and wine. This something more is beauty. It’s the kind of beauty that heals and makes whole. Beauty that holds communion at its core. It is true partaking of and sharing; one with another and with the community in which we live.
... for more from our May/June 2019 issue, Subscribe today, view our FREE interactive digital edition or download our FREE iOS app!