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We'll Always Have Newport: Chapter 12-Tales From The Mess Hall



(September 2010)
The Sailor cannot cook. Correction, he can microwave and bake some things but, cooking on a stovetop is not really his strong suit. In fact, one of his attempts to cook lunch resulted in the smoke alarm going off and the death of a hardworking saucepan.However, lately, the Sailor has gotten into the habit of watching cooking shows with me. I see him plugging unfamiliar ingredients into the Google search engines. One rainy Saturday, he looks over to me and says“You know, I want to cook you something.”
“Ok,” I reply.
Crossing my fingers that it is halfway edible.
He picks up on my slight heisitation.
“Don’t worry, it’s edible,” He says grinning. “I want to make us some tahini.”
Tahini? I am not familiar with it all. The Sailor does a quick Internet search and brings up a website which discusses the ingredients as well as the history of the dish.
From what I can gather tahini is some type of dip and its origins span from North Africa to Turkey, Greece, and parts of Asia..
The ingredients for the Sailor's version include fresh dill, lemon juice, tahini paste and other things that look somewhat unfamiliar to me.  We head out to find the ingredients.  The Sailor asks me to grill up some chicken and we will dress it with the tahini. Also, we can use the tahini to dip our carrots and celery.
After pounding the pavements of Aquidineck Island for fresh dill, we finally find it tucked away at one of the local supermarket chains. I am so tired and hungry that I am tempted to ask the Sailor to stop by the drive-thru. However, one look at his earnest face stops me. We aren’t too far from home so I distract myself by listening to the music on the radio.
A few hours later, we are watching a cooking show and dining on tahini.
It turns out to be good, a little heavy on the dill but, I like it’s exotic taste. It’s tangy and a bit spicy.
My thoughts turn to the events of this day and something niggles at me.
As a couple, the Sailor and I have this dynamic energy which is great for getting things done. We click on all levels in a way that is a little frightening to both of us. Yet, we live in a bubble which revolves around the Navy and Newport.
What happens when we leave here or when the Sailor retires from the Navy?
Will our dynamic be able to propel our relationship forward?
The Sailor picks up on my inner anxiety monologue and pulls me in close for a hug. Almost instantly, I forget about my reservations and go back to watching the television chef make a salad.

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