The Missing

The era of Covid will be remembered for many things, but most likely, not for the saga of the lost paninis.

Admittedly, this year plus of anguish has taught us many things, notably a return to basics.

And so it was in the lovely residence where I now abide.

We are blessed with a superb chef and the menu far beyond any expectations. Obviously, there have never been any complaints about the gourmet meals.

Yet, the inner child forever lurks despite ongoing years. Pre-Covid a few of us made a weekly pilgrimage. Sometimes it was for a Coney Dog at a local coffee shop or occasionally, we trekked to the local pizzaria and enjoyed their unique variety of cuisine.

Obviously, that came to an abrupt end early in 2020.

Meanwhile, none of us have suffered hunger pangs, but yet, the yearning for “something different,” never totally subsided.

This week with great delight I learned the local patisserie was currently serving lunches curbside and available for pickup.

I felt as if I had won the lottery, and immediately called the other members of my culinary posse with the good news.

We googled the online menu and ultimately, three of our group of four decided on a panini. Each choice, however, consisted of different ingredients.

Our obliging concierge staff kindly agreed to pickup the Saturday luncheon orders, and we quickly proceeded online to make our selections.

Our Covid lockdown is close to an end (hopefully), but admittedly, it has been a difficult thirteen months of virtual isolation. I realized that it had definitely taken a toll when I comprehended how thrilled we were with the prospects of the mundane panini order.

Despite the February day’s cold and bleak horizon, our orders were picked up and delivered, each package to our individual apartment.

My black coffee was waiting, as was I. The minute I unwrapped the brown bag, I popped half of the fragrant panini into my mouth, joyfully savoring the bite.

Then I quickly realized it wasn’t mine. I had ordered the basic selection, sans chicken.

I carefully put it back into its wrapper and took a bite (small) of its companion. Instantly, I knew while it was different, it still was not mine.

Reluctantly, I called my two friends, and found them both crestfallen. Neither had received their paninis. Reluctantly, I admitted the truth. I had both, and yes, I had unfortunately, tasted each one.

Obviously, there was no adequate apology for my disappointed luncheon partners.

However, once again, human kindness prevailed.

Within minutes Jason, the owner of the amazing Common Good patisserie, delivered the missing orders. I was then able to finish (without an ounce of guilt) enjoying the remaining panini on my dining room table.

Friendships were preserved, but also, a quick realization that a year of isolation did indeed have consequences.

At least for me.