Umm I had Soup Yesterday

The other day after a staff meeting I was invited out to lunch by my supervisor and the director where I work. They are good friends and wanted to include me in on the much more informal meeting and rehash of events just discussed in our full on staff event. My first response (as with any time I am invited out to lunch) was "I brought my lunch". Its true, I always bring my lunch- I am THAT guy.

That did not go over too well and was met with "Oh come OONNNNNN" and "You always bring your lunch, live a little". Next move and the true reason I could not join them " I don't have the money for lunch." I hate when I am forced to admit that. It is odd, even though I am making more money than before I have never been more broke in my life. Seriously. I don't know why a weekly paycheck makes it impossible for me to balance my budget but I have been broke more than once since I started this job.

"Oh Please, no one is paying for this- its a business lunch" my disappointed supervisor replied.

"Oh... well in that case... cool- where are we going?"

We went over options- Thai (too noisy), Italian (too expensive), Diner (rip off greasy spoon), Go Go Curry (nowhere to sit). We were left with Balkan food. I know, seriously, what the HELL is Balkan food. I thought at first they said VULCAN and was thinking we were headed to some gimmick laden tourist trap fitted with Dr. Spoc memorabilia and a futuristic menu- you know "astro burgers" and "chocolate vulcan death grip cake".

I didn't want to let them know I misunderstood and had no idea what I was in for so I merely said "Yeah that sounds awesome".

We headed down the block through the busy streets outside the porn shops and fabric palaces until we stopped in front of a brightly painted lower restaurant front. It wasn't until then I realized "Balkan" not "Vulcan" . Relieved I looked over the menu in its outdoor case. It seemed doable and we all went inside.

Now Balkan food is essentially Turkish/Middle Eastern cuisine. There are kabobs, meats in cabbages, lots of potato, spetzel (which seemed odd), iceberg lettuce, cucumbers, hot sauces, cool yogurt garlic sauce etc. Since none of us had eaten at the restaurant before it was decided we would all share our meals so we could taste a variety of items. I began to tense up at the idea of "family style".

I have always had an issue with sharing food. This partially stems from my father picking off my plate without a care in the world when I was growing up (eventually my mom yelled at him enough so he stopped) and the nag of my mom's "Do you want me to have some of that?" while she would pine over my plate if I ordered something better than her at a restaurant. However, the real meat of the issue has to do with bodily fluids - more specifically, saliva.

I don't mind swapping spit when making out but when eating...

People stick utensils in their mouths and then in their food, mush it around and repeat. Its just sort of gross to me. Then there are items like popsicles or ice cream on a cone which just totally gross me out. I refuse to eat ice cream on a cone because I think it is nasty to have a spit covered treat exposed to the world. The fact that people offer each other "licks" is even worse. I have the chills just thinking about it. I will share utensils or eat ice cream off someone's cone if I am having sex with them or they are a REALLY good friend but only then... and possibly not even then. I don't even share straws or drink a drink that is mostly gone with my best friend- and I love booze and straws.

Back to Balkan lunch...

It was not like this place was set up for family style- it was meant as a single dish per person which really meant no serving utensils and no holds bar for the spit in food. I cringed thinking of spit covered forks with leftover bits between the prongs, potato crusted knives and more. I decided that I would have to use my grab before stab method of sharing before anyone can dig in (basically I offer my food right away so people are taken a bit off guard and then share their meal before they had a chance to taste it). I am still new to this job so I didn't want to offend anyone, I wanted to be part the "work family" and fit in.

That's when I heard the following order.

"And I will have the bean and ham hock soup"

A wave of nausea went up my spine. How does one share soup?! WHO THE HELL ORDERS SOUP TO SHARE IN A GROUP! I calmed myself down by thinking "oh stupid they will bring small bowls or at least more spoons... just don't eat the damn soup".

The food arrived, no bowls, no spoons. I asked for extra spoons but the waitress just walked away. I tried my hardest to start the grab then stab sharing offering up my food,they took from my plate but no offers to take from their's came in return. My plan was foiled. I watched as forks dug in, went to lips and left spit strings hanging- then back for more. Next thing I knew I was being given a giant serving of stuffed wet cabbage with a side of saliva on my plate from a dirty fork.

"MMMMMMM thanks!" I grinned. I nervously plunged my fork into the wet cold mound and decided to block it all out and enjoy.

"Oh this soup is amazing! Here try it!" the spoon was handed from the director to my supervisor who quickly took up the offer and professed its glory.

"This is AMAZING, oh you MUST try this" She passed the bowl my way and licked the one spoon on the table clean and plunged it back in.

I hesitated. A bead of sweat went down my back. I didn't know what to do. I began to panic as a brown creamy mass was slowly slid my way.

"Ohhh uhhh I had soup yesterday..." Why did I think that would make me safe?

"That is ridiculous- try this its amazing" She reprimanded

"No really I mean I made a big pot- I am all souped out. It smells great though!" there that is good- I made a big pot... idiot.

"One taste will not kill you! COME ON!" and she nudged the plate into my dining space.

I had not experienced this much peer pressure since I was in middle school when all the boys told me if I didn't shower after gym I was a "scrub". I gingerly grabbed the spittle soaked spoon nested deep inside the bean matter.

I raised it to my lips while chanting "its OK, its OK, I am sure this is fine, the heat of the soup killed the germs, its OK, its OK..." Yeah the heat of the soup made it more of a breeding ground and I knew it but before I could withdraw I saw puppy eyes looking at me waiting for my soup approval. Down the hatch it went- without touching my lips or my tounge- essentially I plopped the bean mush in the middle of my mouth. Then I did the pull out - it was all teeth. Such a gross feeling, teeth on spoon.

Smiles of relief when I let out a "MMMmmmmmmMMMMMmmm this IS good"

I lied, it wasn't, however to prove how OK I was with sharing a spoon I took a second bite before I passed it on. "Really good!" spoon, teeth, grind, shudder

The rest of the meal was actually good. I downed the shared food so I could get that over with and went into my own. It was really tasty. I had a spicy veal kabob with a garlic yogurt sauce, a red pepper relish and this amazing flat bread. All of this required some hand involvement which I happily did. I ate most of my meal then remembered I had not washed my hands when I got inside. The last thing I had touched was the sticky railing coming down the stairs inside. So much for worrying about spit on a spoon. I felt slightly ill but pushed it all out of my mind. When I got back to the office I took an airborne... because for some reason I thought that would help.

After the whole affair I realized I learned something - sometimes to make people happy you have to let go of your own inhibitions, if just for a moment, stuff it down deep inside, take the spoon and taste what is offered. You can always rinse your mouth out with Listerine in private later.