I had a customer Tom who came to ZenKitchen restaurant in Ottawa. He was a good friend of my cousin in Toronto. Every time he came in, I went out to the dining room to see him and catch up with our lives. He became a friend. He loved especially my lemon tart and would talk about it to everyone, waiting until his next visit to try it again.

My cousin called to tell me that Tom is not doing well. He has advanced cancer. He had been optimistic and hopeful for a long time, trying everything to make himself better but after many treatments, he is suffering more than ever. Cancer really sucks!

She asked, “could you come to Toronto and bring him your lemon tart? “Sure,” I said a bit reluctantly, “do you really think it would make a difference?” “Yes, he really likes you and talks all the time about you and that lemon tart!”

With strict marching orders and an overpacked scheduled I stayed up late to make that lemon tart before driving to Toronto. I hadn’t made it in over five years since leaving the restaurant and I wondered if it would even turn out. But I stayed focused on the task at hand, said a few prayers, and it seemed to turn out.

I met my cousin at the hospital entrance. She asked, “do you, have it?”, like I was bringing in an illegal drug or a medical breakthrough.  “Yes. I have it,” I said. “Ok, this is going to be hard. I have to warn you that he doesn’t look like he used to,” she said.

“I’m good,” I said confidently, though I wasn’t really. That’s what you need to say in these situations that scare you. There is was one of part of me not wanting to go but another part that had to go, this is the heart speaking.

We walked into the room and Tom was a skeleton of his former self.  I focused on his face and eyes that remained the same. I know from being with my dad who was dying that the body may look terrible and frail but inside the spirit remains the same, and that’s what we must talk to especially at times like this.

I let my heart lead. I held his hand and looked into his eyes.

He was happy to see me he said. I didn’t know what to say, so I said what was true, that I was glad to see him. My cousin mentioned the lemon tart. I had forgotten. Actually, when I saw him all hooked up to tubes and machines, I wondered if he would even be hungry.

His partner was by his side and asked him if he wanted a lemon tart. He nodded and said, “yes, I’ve been waiting for this!”

I got in my chef mode and prepared the lemon tart with the whipped cream and garnishes, and they presented it to him on a dish.

His eyes lit up, he had a big smile on his face, and then his partner fed him. His eyes closed as he said, “hmmmm, so lemony and tart, this is what I remember, so good.” His partner asked him if he wanted more and he said “yes!” We took some photos of me with him with his two thumbs up and smiling.

This was the best review I could ever have. To make someone happy through my food, that the food I create could have this power, touched me profoundly.

I wish it could heal and cure him, be a miracle. But even for a few moments, it moved aside the suffering and sadness around him and the people around his bed watched him with delight as he was delighted, and this allowed a sort of healing to come into the room.

My cousin said he looked 100% better after eating my tart, and sharing my once tragic now made funny stories of online dating brought tears of laughter to Tom and his friends.

I am my father’s daughter after all. My dad George loved making people laugh, especially during serious situations, and he didn’t mind if it was at his expense. He was the proverbial kid in the room. I used to be embarrassed and cringe at his antics but I now I see how refreshing a gift it can be to make others laugh especially during difficult times.

As we were leaving, Tom put his arm around me and we looked into each other eyes. I didn’t know what to say again.

Where is the primer for talking to a person that is in the late stages of cancer?

I took a deep breath, looked into eyes deeply, and felt my heart pounding as I said, “thank you for being in my life, coming to the restaurant and all your support over the years, it has meant a lot to me, I love you.” He nodded and said, “I know you’ll do well with your new book.”

Words are important, but more than this, it’s the actions of looking deeply into someone’s eyes, holding someone’s hand fondly in yours, putting your arm around each other, and sometimes it’s a lemon tart.

♥

After the lemon tart experience with Tom, I decided to hold another pop-up dinner. I had my reason “why”. Simon Sinek says is the most important thing to determine when embarking on a new project.

The dinner combines everything that I love and believe in one package. People eating together around communal tables, nourished by good food made with love and one-on-one connection that is becoming rare in our text first world.

This is why I started the first pop-up some 10 years ago and why I wanted to have another one when I was ready. Though I realized I am never ready, the fear never goes away, and sometimes you need to take a deep breath and plunge in with fear grabbing at your legs not to go.

The first dinner I announced sold out in a few days so I decided to have a second dinner so I could fit more people in. This one sold out too.

This dinner’s in honour of you, Tom, and people like you. It celebrates the inspiring courage and optimism one can have against all the odds, and the incredible power of food to feed our souls. Thank you for being my teacher.

Also published on Medium.