Photo by Carlos Aristizabal
I wondered why the waiter hovered so close to me; after all, I had served myself at the generous and varied buffet selection and needed nothing else. Then I saw another waiter approach, followed by another, until a whole ensemble of tie-clad servers stood around Table 7, their eyes wide with astonishment.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to my husband, who seemed equally perplexed.
“It’s gotta be…” he trailed off, gesturing toward our 18-month-old daughter oblivious to the crowd.
She was perched atop her highchair, happily making a mess with her food.
“More!” she belted out, her tiny finger aimed at her half-empty bowl of miso soup, as the servers oohed and aahed approvingly.
We were enjoying a long weekend in Los Angeles and had discovered breakfast at our luxe property included Asian dishes like miso soup and sushi.
“You’ve still got some soup, sweetie,” I offered gingerly, only to be flat out rebutted with a defiant and amplified, “No! More!” Her finger continued incessantly pointing at the bowl.
“It’s the tofu,” one waiter chimed in. “Look how she eats all that tofu!” he observed with wonder.
Sensing she had an audience, my daughter turned and provided her cutest soup-stained grin.
“I’ll get her some more!” a man whose name tag identified him as Raul, volunteered, disappearing and returning with the speed of Usain Bolt, carrying a bowl heaped with the prized, silky, white cubes.
Grubby hands reached out, snatched the bowl and gobbled the contents down.
Raul zipped away for more, then back again, and then off once more.
It was a discovery for all of us, and yet, while my daughter’s impromptu fan club could not get over the zeal with which a 1½-year-old consumed tofu, to my husband and I, it was as routine as learning she enjoyed squash or peas. New foods, regardless of how unusual, found their way into our repertoire. After all, when I was a child, I’d grown up living a similar experience, only instead of waiters marveling over tofu being ingested, they had watched me devouring escargot — even bumping the count from the standard dozen to 13 with each subsequent visit — a bonus for the sheer novelty of it.
It’s an outlook I’ve always lived by and a guiding principle I’ve shared with both of my kids: “Give it a try; you won’t know if you like it until you do.” While originally intended for a dish that may be unfamiliar to them, I’d like to imagine it’s an ethos they can apply throughout multiple aspects of their lives.
Eventually, the buzz around Table 7 subsided. The waiters returned to serving coffee and eggs to other patrons enjoying a traditional breakfast. We marked it as just another moment of culinary curiosity, knowing there’d be many more to come. My daughter is 24 now and, believe me, the list is quite long. If we had a chorus of waiters for every exotic flavor she has sampled (and loved), we’d have quite a symphony by now!
Happy Reading,
Alona Abbady Martinez
alona@bocaratonobserver.com