Tradition will out-Harvard won the varsity race in the Harvard-Yale Regatta this morning, as it has so many times in the last 140 years. It was, as usual, subdued across the street today, though they'll get rowdy enough later tonight, when the serious partying begins. Tomorrow they will nurse their hang-overs and pack up to go home.
We benefited big time this year, however. One of the Yale cooks who hasn't been up in several years dropped by this morning to say hello and ask after Meg. Generations of neighborhood children have grown up with Yale, and Meg was no exception. She was almost 5 her first time Yale was in residence, and enthralled by these tall young gods who appeared quite unexpectedly one day.
As the years rolled by she was first a brat(to be avoided), then a kid(to be included in croquet and foursquare games), then an almost teenager( to be chuckled at) then a teenage girl(to be ignored), and finally a kitchen employee for several years(interesting because she rowed crew for URI), before she graduated from college and moved on.
The years she worked the kitchen and dining room she became close to one of the cooks, who fed her, and by extension, us very well. He was back today to work just the Regatta, and, boy was it good to have him in the kitchen today. After stopping by this morning, he arrived back at 2:00 with lunch-chicken and veggies and pasta, and promised dinner. He returned at 7:30 with two plates of Chateaubriand(I kid you not!) with asparagus and mashed potatoes, which happened to be "left over" from the Official Senior Banquet. It fed four of us very well, and in a manner to which we are quite unaccustomed.
Needless to say, I am glad he is here now, and not after my gastric bypass! Three of the four of us here tonight rarely eat red meat, but made an exception as soon as that prime beef came through the doorway. Neighbors usually end up with some food after the rowers have gone, because Yale does not want to cart food back to New Haven, but this is the first time we've been so lucky on Regatta Day.
And poor Meg had to work 6 PM to 6 AM, and missed it all. Did we save her any? Not a smidgen! Sometimes I am a very baaaadddd mother!