Hello,

Tarrou at the Table is a project of mine. I’m trying to gain some peace of mind as my diet changes due to an unfortunate illness. Food and wine have always been important to me, but I have to create a new relationship with them in order to stay healthy.

In my writing, I’ll be guided by Jean Tarrou, a character in Albert Camus’ The Plague. I admire him for his even-keel and his ability to provoke his companions into seeing what they truly, deep-down, believe in. I imagaine sharing meals with him. I see him reading pieces that I’ve written, smiling as he asks questions meant to dig safely into arguments – just as he did in The Plague. He will be as thoughtful as he was behind the locked gates of Oran, when he tended his remarks carefully and kept his manner calm amongst the sick and worried. He was a master at drawing out what motivated the decisions and spurred the impulses of the city’s trapped citizens. Understanding what Tarrou expects from our (imaginary) conversations will allow me to approach and log my new culinary and dietary life from the bones outward.

I’ve wrestled with the strangeness of putting Tarrou into this context. But for most of Camus’ book, Tarrou had no self-identified purpose, though was more engaged and helpful than most. He loved being alone, observing his environments’ smallest details. He also spent many nights with others, brainstorming solutions for the city’s biggest problems. Before the plague outbreak, he’d wandered into Oran with no reason to be there, but he became an important member of that community. So, the way I’m looking at it, he has now strolled into my space, and is equally happy to assist me.

Tonight, as I roll a joint and wait for my fiancee to join me in the kitchen, I can’t help but have positive thoughts. We’re making rice noodles with sliced chicken breast and egg whites. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated. But things don’t have to be, right? And lots of times, they shouldn’t be. That’s definitely important to remember.

Best,

D.H.