‘E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle’ – Dante Alighieri
We’re knocking at the door of our first year breaking bread on the corner of Route 10 and River Street. The length of time it takes a dromedary camel to gestate. Astonishing. What an odyssey. We pushed out twelve months ago, not unlike The Jumblies:
They went to sea in a Sieve, they did,
In a Sieve they went to sea:
In spite of all their friends could say,
On a winter’s morn, on a stormy day,
In a Sieve they went to sea!
And when the Sieve turned round and round,
And everyone cried, ‘You’ll all be drowned!’
They called aloud, ‘Our Sieve ain’t big,
But we don’t care a button! we don’t care a fig!
In a Sieve we’ll go to sea!’
And here we are. Our pea-green sail is still firmly affixed to its tobacco-pipe mast. We’re still whistling and warbling moony songs in the shade of the mountains brown. And yes, we passed a few nights in a crockery jar. But we’re here. And it feels amazing.
There will likely be a more opportune moment to stand on ceremony and reflect. Or perhaps reflection is better embroidered into the practical, workaday tapestry of present and future. So much to be thankful for; so many to be thankful to. We set out under the flag of collaboration, and we’re still flying it now, a year in, more proudly than ever. Team Table begins at home, with our small knot of hard-boiled, soft-centred Jumblies, beavering away tirelessly within the confines of this great old building. But from there it ripples out to the farms and dairies of Delaware County, across New York State, down to New York City, sets sail across the ocean and rides westward to the sea. The network of support has been simultaneously staggering and humbling.
They sailed to the Western Sea, they did,
To a land all covered with trees,
And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart,
And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart,
And a hive of silvery Bees.
And they bought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws,
And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws,
And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree,
And no end of Stilton Cheese.
By way of acknowledging the confluence of two tributaries of celebration – Independence Day and our first year afloat – on the evening of Thursday July 4th we’re rolling up our sleeves, sleeving up our rollers and inaugurating PASTA NIGHT. Yes, that’s a whole night and three letters different from PIZZA NIGHT. Fresh pasta, ribbon upon ribbon. Sauces to be announced; but rest assured, all -vores will be taken into account. We even have fresh air for Breatharians and earth for the soil-eaters. We’ll have salads and ice-cream, wine and beer. There’ll be lights in the trees, the warbly bits from Rigoletto in the air and we might even attempt reenactments of classic scenes from Puccini; Katrin will die of American Spirit consumption, Caitlin will commit hara-kari with a butter knife and Inez will hurl herself off the roof of the pizza oven.
We’ll be kneadin’ and a rollin’ during the day on Thursday and the results will adorn all available airspace within Table on Ten. Please come by and sashay like Salome through the pasta curtains. Then come by again in the evening and eat ’em.
It might get busy. In an effort to avoid the Great Pasta Bottleneck of ’13, please send us a message (firstname.lastname@example.org) if you’re thinking of bringing a few people, we’ll try to massage the flow as best we can. No worries though; there’s space in the garden to drink wine, relax and enjoy our spandex unitard rendition of Nessun Dorma.
Thursday July 4th 2013
Table on Ten
Food 6 till 9, Drinks till 10
Free limited edition (20) hand-typed 1 year anniversary copies of Edward Lear’s The Jumblies