Here’s this thing, life isn’t always perfect. Sometimes it’s great, other times it can be stressful, disappointing, underwhelming. I’m going through a bit of a process at the moment. The more I live, get out of my own head and relax into the moment, the more I have a tenable understanding of how lucky I am to live my life. Sometimes the bigger picture is overwhelming. That’s when I find it helpful to have a micro perspective.
I’m learning how important it is to see beauty in the details. Appreciate the warmth of the sun. The breeze. The way the leaves on the trees ebb and flow. The clouds, fluffy and luminescent. The shadows within the clouds.
I am realizing that so much of enjoyment is subtle. Not the big picture. The little bits; colours, shapes, movement. That’s not to say that the big picture isn’t important, but the big picture doesn’t exist without the small fractals that create it. They, often times, appear to be underappreciated.
Last weekend, a day when I had no particular plans, I went to Hackney City Farm and spent an hour looking at goats and pigs, chickens (the alive variety, not the rotisserie kind!) I had a jolly fun time doing it too. There was also a garden with all sorts of beautiful flowers. Bees. Light. It was lovely.
I suppose you’re wondering what the point of this post is… “What on earth does this have to do with food?” you may ask. “And, while your at it, can you please stop boring us with your self sanctimonious BS?”. I’m sorry, I’m getting there.
After I went and saw the animals, I walked to Columbia Rd and sat outside at a little Spanish tapas style cafe. Not bothering to look at the menu, I ordered a carrot juice and a tortilla. The carrot juice came quickly. It was sweet and cold and refreshing. I wanted to gulp it down but forced myself not to.
The tortilla didn’t come as quickly. I waited. Ten minutes went by and I started rationing my juice. Another five minutes I began to feel a little fidgety and irritated. “Honestly, what on earth is taking so long!” I thought to myself. Another five minutes went past, I was perturbed. I didn’t understand. By my thinking, they had a big circular tortilla about the size of a dinner plate, a wedge was cut, put on a plate. A bit of garnish. Sorted. It didn’t take that long to prepare. Why was it taking so long?
I was spending so much time stressing about the absence of my tortilla that I was forgetting to appreciate the presence of freedom and space. I also didn’t know just then, that this time at least, I would be rewarded for my time.
Placed in front of me a few moments later, was the most darling little, whole, round, fresh, perfectly cooked tortilla. Easily, one of the most tasty I’ve eaten outside of Spain. I cut it in half, half again, and again until it was eight wedges. I’ve never understood why I enjoy eating things that are in shapes. I really do. I ate each little triangle one by one.
As I ate, I looked through the window of the cafe. From the outside looking in I could see sitting on a cane stool not far from me, the fluffiest whitest, most majestic cat I had ever seen. It’s luxurious tail swished the air. I looked at it, his eyes met mine, and I knew instinctively, that cat already knew the very thing, I had only just learnt.
Laxeiro Tapas Bar
93 Columbia Rd, London E2 7RG