the other night my dad and i were trying to find a place to eat, which is harder than you might imagine in houston, and we ended up at this great little persian place by my apartment. not knowing anything about persian cuisine, we each ordered a stew that sounded good and sat back to see what would happen. upon receiving our food and sampling both meals, i was struck by how indicative of our personalities were our food choices. my father's was very tomato-y and robust and just, well, him. the second i tasted it i knew that it was a perfect dish for him. mine, on the other hand, was a sweeter, nuttier, more exotic set of flavors in a very unstew-like format that would never work for my dad, but which i enjoyed greatly, as much for its novelty as its deliciousness. it was a perfect metaphor for our lives. the traditional, robust, nebraska stew meets the nutty pomegranate chicken.
it was the sort of thing that i want to wrap concisely into a beautiful and moving photograph, in order to be captured and shared forever. except that the important parts weren't the least bit visual and i don't know how to juxtapose flavors and personalities into an artful composition without losing their essence.