Radical Hospitality - Part Two
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By Prudence Groube
There are too many moments of grace to account for all that we were given so freely along the way, but this is the possibly the most simple and encompassing one:
As we hiked down a cobble stone street in a rural village, a woman working in her yard saw us and rushed to one of the trees in her little orchard, plucking some small, early, fruits eagerly. Running to reach out over the ancient stone wall surrounding her yard, her hands full of tartly sweet young apples, she offered with devout earnesty and joy: “Apples for the Peregrinos!”
We walked alongside many other Peregrinos that day (from so many different countries!), and shared this fruit with them as we shared stories and pooled our other resources such as hiker’s wool (our flesh/our blood) with our fellow “aliens:” - a salve and an aid to all of us in our journeys’ across this new land.
Whilst the museums and cultural artifacts of a foreign place can show us historical context, it is the places, or moments, in which we “break bread” that give us the Life of a place. These spaces welcome us in to share a different way of seeing, and/or being, in the world, accessed through the common language of necessity: food and drink.
One of the most unique qualities of contemporary Portuguese culture is the way in which the life of each community radiates out from the town church. My clever sister figured it out swiftly - upon entering each town, she would look for the church steeple and point: “There. If we find the church we will find the coffee shop and food.”
There are multiple services a day, but by far the most significant and well attended is the 6 o'clock mass. The whole town is there. They line up and kneel at a wooden rail to receive the communion of bread and wine. After the service, the people flood into the square outside and it's a lively scene. A bustling exchange of greetings and gossip, flirting and networking, before they disperse into the numerous coffee shops, bars/restaurants, and businesses that expand out from the church structure like a galaxy of stars from the sun; and the real Vida da Noite (life of the night) begins. Observing this over and over again, a thought crystalized:
“In Portugal, the people go to church; in America, they go to happy hour.”
Many people (including myself in a former life) would not consider a “bar” to be a community-building-entity similar to a church . Quite the opposite, in fact.
My experience of building community and finding a new family so far from where I originally call home through my years working in restaurants, was perhaps the prologue of a book I began writing and then cast aside.
My experience of Caminho; followed swiftly by 2020 and quarantine, enhanced my ability to perceive and appreciate the magnitude of what restaurants truly bring to our communities and culture. It also gave me pause to reflect on what role I might play in building a better community and culture through how I choose to be when I am at my bar, both internally and externally. It made me want to write a better book.
Restaurants and the culture that they curate, can be a powerful voice in building better communities. The Stonewall Inn (now a landmark of the civil rights movement in America) is a compelling example of how transformative the power of the action of hospitality can be.
Within the ever fractious world of recent times, we find ourselves all aliens on a journey through a strange land. It's frustrating and dismaying. We don't always navigate correctly (we got lost frequently along our Caminho - walking from yellow arrow etched into tree, to faded spray painted arrow on a random wall, truly a leap of faith!) but we do get to choose how we walk, and how we meet our fellow pilgrims along the way.
Here, in NYC, people flood into the city's diversity of restaurants, every day - from so many different places, for so many different occasions – yet, their hope(s) are the same: to live in a communi[on}ty. Whether it's meeting old friends or being fresh in town and heading to a local bar to start finding new ones, our role in service becomes like the officiant in the ritual of communion.
So today, when I step behind this mysterious plank of wood, laid down as a communion rail, that becomes called “bar,” I will put my cynical doubt (cut smooth and hard as a diamond by so many years in this industry) aside, and choose to remember this promise given at the commencement of communion at that little church in Santa Barbara:
“Whoever you are. Wherever you are in your journey. You are welcome at this table.”
With all that we have been through in our industry recently; with all of the challenges we face going forwards everyday; this is a singular promise worth believing in and praying for us to keep. It is as sacred as it is beautiful.
Bar supervisor at SEAMORE'S (Chelsea). Slayer of Mojitos and bad playlists at 230 Fifth - Rooftop. Co-Founder The Last Word, NYC - cocktail consultancy.
Exhibiting painter and illustrator, published poet and writer, Prudence finds the pathway to storytelling through the consumable [s]CUL[p]TURE of cocktails.
Opinions expressed in this article do not necessarily represent the views of Best Served. To achieve our mission of bringing more voices to the table, we are committed to sharing a variety of viewpoints across the industry.
