whew

Today, I was up at the ungodly hour of 9:30 a.m. I ran through my routine health checks (lower-than-usual blood sugar, which I'll be ruining through some heavy-duty carb ingestion today), finished stuffing my Costco and No Brand bags with items for the picnic (plates, utensils, gas range, tablecloth, food items, a bottle of fresh chimichurri as a gift, etc.), and headed out, around 10:30, to the park next to my building to set up a picnic table, then go back to my building's lobby to await the couple's arrival. I forgot to bring along my bokgeum-pan (a deep, almost wok-shaped sort of frying pan), so I had to walk back to the building, take the elevator to the 14th floor, then tromp over to my apartment to grab the pan and a silicone spatula to be able to stir the chicken.

I had planned to serve my chicken atop a nice bed of couscous... but I have no idea where all of my couscous went! I thought I had five whole bags of the stuff (Bob's Red Mill, of course), but when I opened my spice drawer last night, all the couscous was gone. What the fuck had I done with it? I couldn't remember. That, friends, was a true senior moment. I had absolutely no recollection of how all of that couscous could possibly have escaped from my clutches. My brain went into overdrive as I mentally explored ways to get couscous before 11 a.m. the next day. I looked through drawers and cabinets for possible alternatives... and that's how I found a long-lost, unopened box of quinoa. Cooked quinoa is couscous-like in terms of fluffy texture, and you can sprinkle it with garlic powder and load it up with butter just like couscous, so I told myself that this would have to do. Luckily, quinoa is also absurdly easy to cook in a rice cooker, so I did that, and at the end of the cook, I added a huge lump of butter and sprinkled the top of the cooked seeds with garlic powder, fluffing the whole thing after it had had a chance to cool down a bit. So that was the carb problem sorted, and quinoa is arguably healthier, carb-wise, than couscous.

By the time I got my pan and spatula and barley water (to drink, in case you're not familiar with barley water), it was close to 11 a.m., so I decided to go straight to the lobby to await the couple. They were already there, as it turned out, and they greeted me with hearty hellos. We walked out a side door so as to access the nearby park a little faster. Monsieur and Madame were impressed by the picnic setup I'd created. I felt lucky to have snagged the only pavilion in the park with a picnic-table setup. It wasn't in an ideal spot: we had noisy people playing basketball and the native game of 족구/jok-gu (a combination of soccer and tennis/volleyball where two teams use soccer moves to hit a ball over a tennis-style net); I would have preferred a spot with a grander view of the park's green spaces, but you work with what you have.

G and M seemed well rested after their cross-country walk. Both are former ultramarathoners, so they got through the walk with no problem (unlike yours truly and my perennial foot issues). I told them I'd be heading out to my office soon after lunch, and they told me they also had to head out to M's brother's house, where they would be staying for two nights before heading back to San Diego not long after. M told me about a friend of hers who has pancreatic cancer and was getting chemotherapy. I privately thought the situation sounded fairly bleak: the prognosis for pancreatic cancer is rarely good. We talked randomly about things like Sicilian culture and life in Chicago; the couple cooed over my food when I opened up the containers and started spooning the chicken dish into my pan for reheating.

Lunch itself went well; I was a little apprehensive about what the couple might think, but they enjoyed their fairly meager portions. (M is around 77; her husband G is around 83, so neither one eats like a Viking.) Out of modesty, I didn't load up my plate, either, so there were plenty of leftovers, which I planned to cart over to the office to share with the crew on Monday.

M gave me a pair of walking shoes that turned out to be a bit too small for me; I'm going to see about foisting the shoes onto my boss, who has two tween boys who might find the shoes useful (their feet could actually be too big already!). She also gave me the rest of her fresh fruit as well as a couple traditional Korean snacks that I'm not particularly fond of. I'll be sharing this bounty with my officemates, but I doubt they'll be all that enthusiastic, either.

Anyway—surprise, surprise: the meet-up took almost exactly an hour. We said our goodbyes as the couple headed back underground to the subway; they once again invited me to see them in San Diego; M insisted that I think of them as Grandpa and Grandma (although G and M would both be closer to my parents in age); I could tell that M was feeling that hard-to-translate Korean jeong (something like a warm fellow-feeling or connection); the feeling wasn't exactly mutual, but I can't say I had a bad time with the couple. I wished them a safe trip back to the States; M promised to use the chimichurri tonight because they'll be grilling meat at her brother's place.

And that was that. Something of a relief to be done, but I do sincerely wish the couple well. I forgot to ask them where their next walking adventure would take them, but I'm sure we'll be in contact via email.

G and M just before sitting down and eating.

This plate ought to look familiar. I've done this dish several times before (but never with quinoa).

Trust me, there's a lot more left than just this.

G is originally from Sicily, and he was amused by the ground pistachios, which are a must in Sicilian food.