Food is Love

Written By: Luke Osteen | Issue: 2018/09 - September | Photograph By: Marjorie Christiansen Photography

Harriet Van Horne was a columnist for the New York World-Telegram and is considered the first television critic. That means that over the course of her storied career she reviewed evergreen episodes of “I Love Lucy” and “Playhouse 90,” creations that even today maintain their wit and their bite and their irresistible pull.

Yet the other part of the equation means that she endured thousands of hours of watching things like “Mr. Millionaire” or the lesser spawn of horse operas like “Wagon Train,” where the level of dialogue rarely surpassed the eloquence of a punch in the mouth. Think of it, hunched in a darkened room in front of a 12-inch flickering screen, watching endless iterations of “My Little Margie,” and “December Bride.”

Yet somehow, Ms. Van Horne managed to maintain her critical faculties and present her sensibilities over the course of decades, extending her discerning view into the granular necessities of everyday life. She did it with style and grace and an aplomb that set her apart from her male colleagues in the editorial suites. and, of course, she managed to do it as a woman or, as she’d have been described by those colleagues, a “girl.”

Consider this pearl, tossed out like a note in a bottle amidst the rolling seas of lowest-denominator television: “Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.”

Which brings us to Meritage Bistro.

Unlike every restaurant review I’ve ever submitted to Laurel, I made my reservations for Meritage without a scintilla of knowledge about the chef or his staff. I still don’t know who he or she is.

But it was clear, with every dish, with every course that was presented to our table, that this culinary team was deeply, passionately, in love with their craft.

Our meals included Crispy Brussel Sprouts, Ahi Tuna Tartare, Pomme Frites, Caesar Salad, Woodland Mushroom Risotto, Faroe Island Salmon, Peekytoe Crab Cakes, Peach Cobbler, and Lemoncello Cake.

Crispy Brussel Sprouts proved to be the surprise hit of the table. Who knew there were any tricks that could elevate this most-benighted vegetable into a flavor sensation? But the addition of molasses and sesame seeds and the judicious application of heat transformed it into something rich and strange.

It evinced the first instance of my pseudo-daughter Kathryn’s unconscious habit of patting the table with her hand to demonstrate her delight with a first bite. By the end of our long meal, with the arrival of dessert and coffee, she was tap-tap-tapping the table like a slap-footed goose in the throes of St. Vitus Dance.

Yes, Ms. Van Horne, food is love. And somehow Meritage fosters it. And I’m not just talking about the menu.

Meritage Bistro is that rarest of creatures, a place that’s set for whispered intimacies, yet perfectly conducive to joyful table talk among clutches of close friends and extended families.

Part of this is the floor plan of the restaurant. Half of the place is a cozy Dining Room of nine tables, dominated by a beautifully designed bar. You can lean in and talk, really talk, with your dining companion.

The other half is given over to a canopied outdoor space that’s an invitation to lively conversation and a healthy dose of laughter. We dined outside and the evening had its own soundtrack – the gentle, jazzy sounds of Saturdays on Pine wafting over from Kelsey-Hutchinson Founders Park.

Part of this memorable meal was the fact that Kathryn and I were dining with a couple clearly falling in love. Throughout the meal, they’d say something funny and slyly dart their eyes at one another, or in the midst of conversation they’d gradually yet inexorably lean into one another with an unconscious grace. It was hypnotic and acres of good fun to watch.

Which once again speaks to the love there in the kitchen. Think how this budding romance could have faltered with a dish that just wasn’t right. Love is hard enough to sustain and nurture. A meal conceived with expediency and inattention is just one more hurdle.

Meritage Bistro is located at 490 Carolina Way in Highlands. Reservations are a must! Call (828) 526-1091.

On a final note, Harlan Ellison died as we were putting this issue of Laurel to bed. For all of his life, Harlan was a writer, raconteur and all-around Angry Man to the injustices in this world. Read his “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream” and see if your socks don’t go up and down.

At a writer’s workshop in Santa Rosa in the barely remembered year of 1978, Harlan disassembled a story of mine and described it as a dog’s breakfast. It was harsh and at the end of the harangue I felt like about four pounds of milk-sogged Shredded Wheat. He told me never to write any more fiction or he’d come to my house and roll my tongue around the platten of the typewriter and hit the carriage return lever until my guts were pulled out. And then slap my Mom several times for causing the whole thing.

He did, however, say that I had potential as a writer of non-fiction and that I just needed to keep writing until my style emerged. He said to write every day, without hesitation, and I’d discover a voice of my own. 

I took his advice, grateful for emerging relatively unscathed (you should have seen how he treated my classmates), and eventually became a writer – someone who actually gets paid for his work.

Years later, when I ran into him and told him about my good fortune, he told me he had no memory of me, but he was glad I got my money’s worth out of the course.

This sad world will miss his gimlet-

eyed consideration.

Oh, and don’t worry about Harlan:

At this moment, he’s arrived at the Pearly Gates and has filed 48 lawsuits against the Almighty and the Company of Angels;

Or he’s just arrived in Hell and is busy re-organizing the place;

Or he’s a dyspeptic  34-pound one-eyed dog, cheerfully patrolling a junkyard in the South Bronx.