Pairs Well: The Smiths and Chicken Salad

A few nights ago, I discovered The Smiths. Home from the bars, I stumbled into my fridge for a late night snack. My cravings fell upon a tub of store bought chicken salad. I set the mood with the multicolored Christmas lights strung around our living room and burrowed under my favorite fleece blanket on the couch. Not bothering with pesky dishes, which require washing, I dug my fork right into the store container.

Soon after, my roommate, Jared, joined the late-night pig out. He thumbed through his iPod, searching through his 20,000+ tracks for that one song that belonged to the moment. Suddenly, the room was filled with a sweet, melancholic melody. Morrissey’s voice danced with the dark romance of a cool night on the beach. I remember my summer, feet blanketed in the almost fridge Cancun sand, watching over the black desert of water, stained only by waves rippling through the moon’s light.  My brother and I stand quietly, contemplating the foreboding grandeur in front of us. Chills run down my neck. I look over at my brother. The moon shines just enough light on him for me to spot the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, catching the salty Ocean breeze.

           

“Oh my God, what is this?” I ask.

            “‘There is a Light that Never Goes Out,’” He responded.

As we let the music conduct our wondering minds, bursts of celery lashed their bitter juices over my tongue, complementing the sweet, fatty mayo (Celery is my favorite thing about chicken salad.) They send comforting waves across my thoughts, a reminder of my nights on the beach, where the water on my feet provided relief from the day’s lingering heat. Together, the chicken salad and the Smiths played out a sensual symphony. It was one of those rare moments in which you connect very intimately with art through a combination of mediums. Taste and sound meshed with the time of night and for four minutes and five seconds, we felt transcendent.