An Armenian summer's day

As most great ideas do, it started with a few bottles of wine. As we sat around the dinner table one night, I listened as J-P and Sarah and Aaron retold stories about Armenia that I've now heard dozens of times, and I realized that the places and people have become familiar to me, even if they are still technically strangers. Gyumri, Vanitzor, Lake Sevan, Yerevan. Med-evacs and marchutneys. A8s, A7s, and A9s. Casino night. The Halloween party. Thanksgiving. The vodka. The cold winters. The wild dogs. The fresh apricots.

While we talked and drank and drank and talked, we had one of those impossibly far-fetched ideas -- what if we were to host a khorovats here in Nashville, and invite every last A8? (For the uninitiated, "A8" refers to the eighth class of Peace Corps volunteers sent to Armenia, who were there in 2000-2002.) Would the weather cooperate? Where would everyone stay? Could we find the proper ingredients in Nashville -- the lavash, the cheese, the skewers for the khorovats? And, most of all, would anyone bother to come?

By the third bottle of wine, we decided to throw caution to the wind and just go for it, certain that everything would work out.

And so it did.


Jeremy, Jen's brother Wade, Jen, Tamara, Jill, Aaron, Sarah and Scarlett, Sharon, Bon Bon, Artur, Melissa, and J-P.

On a humid Saturday a few weeks ago, we sat on our deck for hours, the smell of lamb and pork wafting over us from the khorovats pit that J-P dug for the occasion, ingesting bottles of vodka and club soda in nearly equal measure, enjoying the lavash and cheese imported from Boston, dusting off the old stories for another re-telling, sharing information about those who couldn't be there. For me, the day was a chance to reconnect with some of the very good friends that I've met because of J-P, and to meet, for the first time, others who shared some of the most formative years of J-P's life. Not to mention that I finally got to experience the ritual of the khorovats and the outstanding meal it produced, and to enjoy one of the first truly summery days of the season.

As I said to J-P late that night, it was better than I ever could have hoped.


One of many toasts.


Sharon, Sarah, Jen, and Bon Bon.


The three musketeers.


The dinner table overfloweth.

P.S. There is a post with the food details to come on Strawberry Beret. I'll link as soon as it's up. UPDATE: It's up!