We Gather Together Again

I'm thankful.

I'm thankful for The Child even though she hates me because I made her change her clothes before we went to dinner (cleavage).

I'm thankful for The Spouse even though he never had any intention of putting the giant turkey carcase we scored into the garage which meant I had to because I care more about the potential for food poisoning than he does and doing so put my dress at risk of a good greasing.

I'm thankful my dress didn't get greased.

I'm thankful that even though this was technically a day off I live close enough to work that MAB could call me, twice, to bring kitchen implements that were required and not available. (I'm also thankful for my work and for MAB).

I'm thankful that there are left-overs sufficient for a evening turkey sammie.

I'm thankful for Blogtopia and all her inhabitants (well, at least the ones on my block. Not so much the wing nuts or the spambot who has been littering my posts with Russian ads).

I'm thankful that Barack Obama is my President, that it's almost Advent and that I hid the cinnamon crystal cut candies.

I'm thankful for cold water that isn't diseased.

I'm thankful.

It's Almost Time for the Macy's Day Parade! (And if you say it like that for real I will mock you mercilessly).

My Facebook account is "temporarily unavailable". I know what that means....more frakking changes to the site that I am not going to like. Stoopid Facebook and their constantly-changing-stuff-all-the-time-when-I-liked-it-just-fine-the-way-it-was.

So I'll blog.

The Spouse is making dinner (Alsatian Choucroute...which is about the farthest thing from turkey that there is). The Child is "cleaning her room".

Tomorrow we will dine at The House with MAB and the families. Both The Spouse and I have to work on Friday so we don't have time to go be with all the fam (much to the chagrin of everyone but there it is). But we had fun at The House last year so we're going again. Plus the food is going to be spectacular and hello? I don't have to cook any of it. Gotta love that.

The Spouse just waved a smoked pork chop under my nose. I am not a fan, generally speaking, of the chop. I'll deign to eat it, mostly because The Spouse loves a good chop. But let me tell you, the smoked pork chops from Bavarian Meats are pink and meaty little slices of heaven. Heaven, I tell you.

On Friday I shall wear jeans to work and spend the day hiding in the office while MAB decorates for Christmas. She brings to that process a rabidity that is rivaled only by the likes of Martha Stewart. In fact, when it comes to Christmas decorating, MAB makes Martha Stewart look like a hack.

And speaking of Martha Stewart, my sister Martha Stewart mailed us a shoe box stuffed to the gills with her home-made holiday candies. There's English toffee (for The Spouse), and peppermint meringues and fudge and peppermint bark and she even remembered the cinnamon crystal cut candies that are my personal favorite. Isn't she the best?

I shall leave you with a little Thanksgiving question: what is your very favorite must-have food for Thanksgiving?

I'll start.

For many years I'm quite sure my answer to that question would have either been dressing (not stuffing....I don't like the stuff from inside the bird) or cranberry sauce. But one year a friend and I were invited to a couple's home for Thanksgiving dinner. These women were famous in our circle for their foodiness and wine connoisseurship so we were pretty jazzed about the invitation. When we came to table the food looked and smelled fantastic. We had grace and a toast and I brightly said, "Pass the gravy, please". "Oh," said my hostess, "we didn't make gravy. We didn't think it was necessary. I mean, who eats gravy?"

Oh. My. Yord. Who eats gravy? WHO EATS GRAVY?????

That was the year I learned that my favorite food on the Thanksgiving table is gravy, the luscious stream of goodness that unites all the other goodness on the plate, bringing out their essential and truest natures and lovingly encouraging them to sing. I am always and forever thankful for gravy.

A Food Note

The Dog is now 6-0 for rat slaying. His latest conquest came right after the Autumnal Feast ended last night.

Hit it out of the park, btw, on the feasting. Except I forgot to take pictures of almost everything. And the pictures I did take, Blogger apparently doesn't want you to see.

So I'm going to scrape more goose fat off the surfaces of my kitchen and try again tomorrow.

(Btw, The Spouse is making French onion soup for dinner. I am sooooooo excited for it's toasty cheesy goodness).

Feastin'

The Autumnal Feast is tonight. It usually takes place in October but with The Child's play and such we had to move it back.

One of the many areas of life that have been neglected since going to work is entertaining. We hardly ever do it anymore, and it used to be we'd have at least one dinner party a month, even if it was just pizza with another family. But it takes time to plan menus and issue invitations and iron napkins and hello?

But in my new found attempt to not suck at everything but work I spent some time thinking about this meal and planning. It might not be quite as elaborate as previous feasts but this is not about impressing the crap out of people. It's about gathering the usual suspects to celebrate the harvest and the change of seasons and 20 years of friendship. So the menu will be simple but it will be, I suspect, delicious.

The Boys always bring the first course, so that will be a surprise. For soup we're having pumpkin chili soup with pepitos and Parmesan crisps (nearly done). Salad will be butter lettuce, radicchio, bleu cheese and cranberries in a shallot vinaigrette (also nearly done). The entree is roast goose (The Spouse is in charge of that). Sides will be a fun little roasted potato thingy (Nigella), Brussels sprouts with bacon (the only recipe that lures me to actually eat Brussels sprouts) and a mixed grain pilaf (Trader Joe's - come on now, mama is not above letting someone else do the work if it's tasty). Dessert is, as always, apple Charlotte and The Child really wants to make it so I'll let her (with some supervision....caramel is involved).

Plus, I got my hair did today and it's awesome. I love my stylist. She's the best little hair cutter in all the land. Maybe there will be a nice picture tonight...I was thinking that my profile pic is getting pretty old.

Must toddle off to the co-op. Have a tasty day.

Volleyball and Pie

I am not at a PTA meeting this morning. This is me, being light of heart.

There are also merits to taking the high road. The Child had a volleyball game last night and many of the parents are the same ones who were being ridiculous on the weekend. I am happy to report that everyone was absolutely lovely to each other, laughing and joking and cheering for our kids like we always do. Maybe even more than we usually do. It was terrific.

The game? They went in with an undefeated record. Not so much now. However, it bears noting that after being smashed in the first game they came back and won the 2nd game 25-9. The Child was responsible for about 6 of those points, including her first ever spike at the net. It was a little piff of a thing but it surprised the frak out of the opposing team. And Bad Coach. And the snotty Princess. And The Child. Tee.

The girls started out with a 6 point lead in the 3rd game and then it went back and forth. Sadly, they lost, but they made the other team work for it, with a final score of 27-25. Hardly a drubbing. And for the record, our girls, who are 13 and 14, are "playing up", which means they have been facing high school sophomores and juniors all season. They so rock.

The Child still hates Bad Coach, who is still a Bad Coach and an idiot. But she told me last night that she wants to play CYO in the spring, even if he's the coach. (I continue to work behind the scenes to see to it that we have a good coach in the spring. I didn't engender all this political clout in my years on PTA for nuthin'. I know people. I'm going to work that like a mule in a field).

Meanwhile, parents are begging me to reconsider sending The Child to DC. Some of the folks that were such jerks at the rummage sale are even asking the head guy to credit their take to The Child's account. How do I feel about that? I'm not sure. On one hand, if I can send her without doing anymore fundraising and without paying for it myself, that would be a good thing. On the other, I'm still not sure, given a whole lot of stuff, whether this is really the group of kids with whom I want her spending a week in DC. I'm going to think and pray on it and talk to The Principal and see where that takes me. It'll take a very large and bright shiny sign to change my mind. Not to mention, Hat and I are seriously thinking that taking Rosie up on her suggestion of a road trip, with The Child, to Sandpoint in May. That sounds delicious. Almost delicious as pie. But not mincemeat.

About Mincemeat

Way back in the day, when there wasn't refrigeration and like that there, folks came up with a groovy idea for dealing with leftover meat that had begun to turn They chopped it up super fine, mixed it with strong liquors, dried fruits and other masking agents, popped it in a pastry and said, "Yum". Then they all died of food poisoning. But somehow the idea lived on.

Down the culinary road a pace, someone figured out that instead of rancid meat they should use fruit, like apples and green tomatoes. That's the sort of thing you find in most prepared jars of mincemeat today. But recipes I found for making the stuff from scratch very often still include some meat and suet. Personally, anything that calls for suet is a non-starter for me. Eeeww.

Anypie, many years ago I was on staff in the Continuing Education office at my alma mater. My boss was a charming, elegant man of refined tastes. The sort of gentleman you could picture in a smoking jacket, having a snifter of brandy in the parlour while his equally elegant and refined wife played a little Chopin on the baby grand. One Christmas he hosted a dinner party in his equisitely appointed home for the entire staff. A long table was set with a crisp white cloth, English bone china and gleaming silver candlesticks. The meal, which he and his wife had prepared, was a sumptuous event with many courses. We started with Oysters Rockefeller and, I think, champagne (the school was by mandate a tea total sort of place but that did not apply to the lifestyles of many players off campus) and ended with pie.

Mincemeat pie. Very lovely looking pie, flakey and perfectly browned crust from which oozed luxurious mincemeat. 'Cept, it was traditional mincemeat. As in beef. As in beef with sugar and apples and raisins. You know what? You cannot douse beef with enough brandy to make someone forget that they are eating sugared meat.

I love sweet and savory combinations. But there are limits. Would you put hard sauce on a burrito? Whipped cream on turkey? No. Meat is not a dessert. There. I said it.

I must away. I shall leave you with this, a little sumpin sumpin found recently while reading about pie. It made me laugh.

From Epulario (The Italian Banquet), published in 1598. The English translation:

To Make Pie That the Birds May Be Alive In them and Flie Out When It Is Cut Up

Make the coffin of a great pie or pastry, in the bottome thereof make a hole as big as your fist, or bigger if you will, let the sides of the coffin bee somwhat higher then ordinary pies, which done put it full of flower and bake it, and being baked, open the hole in the bottome, and take out the flower. Then having a pie of the bigness of the hole in the bottome of the coffin aforesaid, you shal put it into the coffin, withall put into the said coffin round about the aforesaid pie as many small live birds as the empty coffin will hold, besides the pie aforesaid. And this is to be at such time as you send the pie to the table, and set before the guests: where uncovering or cutting up the lid of the great pie, all the birds will flie out, which is to delight and pleasure shew to the company. And because they shall not bee altogether mocked, you shall cut open the small pie, and in this sort you may make many others, the like you may do with a tart.

Tis the Season

I'll be the first to admit that I absolutely abhor the fact that Christmas advertising starts before Halloween. I hate going into stores before Thanksgiving and seeing all the trappings of the season yet to come. There was a big inflatable Santa in front of a UPS store this morning and I so wanted to pop it.

But that said, I am so getting into the holiday spirit. I'm very excited for Thanksgiving this year, especially because we're going to be joined by the lovely and vivacious Buck. For the last 15 plus years we've spent the holiday with my family but that tradition is changing (owing a lot to the fact that The Spouse has to work on the Friday after Thanksgiving and it's really become a stressor to try and rush down to the folks and then rush back. Hi, have you ever been in holiday traffic?) We'll miss the fam but it's going to be awesome to start our own tradition in this regard. Buck being with us is going to make it that much more special.

And, while we aren't going full bore on the Christmas thing, what with wanting to celebrate Thanksgiving and Advent first, thankyouverymuch, there are little plans afoot: settling on the menu and inviting guests and thinking about what sorts of gifties we'd like to shower on those in attendance (including The Hat...oh, the joy of family holidays frosted with Blogtopian goodness...we're so lucky).

But the holiday season is, for good and for ill, most definitely upon us and the magic of this time is palpable. There is much giddiness and delight in the family these days for lo, the best and most magical of holiday celebrations begins this Friday.

"What?," says you? "I'm looking at my calendar and see nothing. Unless you people get giddy about Veteran's Day?"

No, gentle and silly reader, not Veteran's Day...although who doesn't love a nice three day weekend? No, the feast of which I speak, the celebration which is getting us revved up is none other than the sacred and much adored celebration of Iwanskifest. Yes. On Friday we will receive our box o' gout from Tastes of Chicago and embark on a four day frenzy of eating in honor of our personal hero, John Iwanski.

This year is even more anticipated than last year. It is not unlike, I'm sure, how someone would feel who had always celebrated Christmas but never believed in Jesus. A nice enough holiday but missing some essence. And then that person becomes a believer and suddenly Christmas is more than tinsel and presents. Last year we celebrate Iwanskifest because it seemed like a good excuse for a party. But now, having actually met the man and been in his presence, it will be so much more meaningful.

Plus this year The Neighbor will actually be in town so she'll be able to join us if she wishes. Good times.

Now I must away to finish preparations. There is the Iwanski calendar to create and garlands of beer cans to string. Busy busy.

Oh, and sorry I'm so late posting, for those of you who have your deadlines. I was busy spending the morning resigning from things.

Day of Rest. Ha.

I got up yesterday at 6am because I had to go help out with the PTA Pumpkin Patch before retrieving The Child to go to church so I could deliver the homily for the youth liturgy and then come home and work on the school phone directory which is going out this week. If it hadn't been for the absolute autumnal perfection of the weather, an afternoon glass of vin rouge with The Neighbor (who is finally done gallivanting), meatloaf for dinner and "Brothers and Sisters", I might have found the day a bit too too.


All those things I wanted to get done last week got done and so now I can focus my energies on more exciting things, like writing projects and the upcoming Autumnal Feast. I came up with a menu last night. Have to run it by The Spouse before executing the plan but it is, in my humble estimation, killer.

The Spouse finished a rough cut assembly of the movie. It looks pretty darned good. Once the rough bits are smoothed out and Buck's orchestration gets laid down, I think it will be a fine little film. If you are dying of curiosity, you can g o look at some stills from the movie over at The Spouse's blog.

The Child is home with a stomach thing that has been going around. Blast. Blast about the stomach thing, not so much the her staying home thing. I'm making her stay in bed so it's not like she's in my way or anything.

That is all.

In Praise of Girlfriends and Dinner Guests

Friday night was a slumber party baby shower for Seattle Coffee Girl. What can I say? Good friends, good wine, good food and one very stubborn baby who absolutely refuses to kick his Auntie Raine.

I made melon soup for one course. Stina thought that mixed with vodka it would be a perfect summer cocktail. (The green is honeydew with mint and ginger ale; the apricot colored one is cantaloup with yogurt and honey. Really yummy. And yeah, blended with vodka would be worth the experiment).

Ree brought spa stuff so it was all about the manis and pedis and facials and generally being girlie. Which is just a really fun thing to do from time to time.

Sleeping on the floor has, sadly, lost it's charm. But waking up to coffee, mimosa, waffles, eggs and bacon in the a.m. was more than adequate compensation.

I came home from that party and went straight to bed and took a proper nap for about 2 hours. Then I was in fine mettle for preparing for the Summer Solstice feast. I have detailed the menu over at "Here's the Dish" so you're welcome to go over there for the yumfest. Suffice to say it was a lovely, lovely evening. The food was really good and the company even better.

Not to mention, and please don't think me shallow, but can these people give hostess gifts, or what? I swear. Prezzies are not the reason I entertain but holy moly, these 2 couples have pretty much just raised the whole thing to an art form.

ChouChou, who has always brought perfectly lovely things, has taken to getting specific requests from me. So I sent her in the direction of Williams Sonoma and a line of chicken motif tablewares I've been collecting. Except, she's the sort of person who, if you say, "I sure could use a new air freshener for my car" will not only by you a pretty little pine tree air freshener but the car to put it in. Consequently, she gave me the tablecloth I'd requested, plus napkins.

But isn't it pretty?

I ♥ it very much.

The Cardinal says that the very pretty French script is just made up nonsense. But we don't care.

He and Mr. Mikey are also no slouches in the hostess-gifting department. This season's offering: a new welcome mat.

I find this highly amusing. But cool as it is, pause for a moment and consider this:

That would be a Moroccan rosewater sprinkler. For The Child. Because every 13 year old girl needs a Moroccan rosewater sprinkler. Which she used with lavish spirit. (Because of course he thought to include both rose and orange water for her use). I'm kinda jealous but have been told that is not sporting of me.

Anyway, the food was fab and no one mentioned that the amuse bouche was the same one I served at the Autumnal Feast. (L'horreur!) I had reviewed all the menus of Solstice Feasts past to make sure there were no repeats but didn't think to research the entire history of feasts with this group. Not that anyone would mind if they did remember because it was an amusing bouche and certainly worth a repeat.

This cozy group of friends has been ringing in the summer season this way for 10 years now. Which is a nice, long time to keep a tradition going, I think.

Moi, playing with my dessert wine glass (empty, of course).

The Cardinal, The Child and Moi

ChouChou does not like having her picture taken.

Mr. Mikey, The Spouse and John, who don't mind being photographed at all.

It was a very satisfying and entertaining weekend. But I'll be super honest with you: after back-to-back dinner parties, book-ended on either side by potluck parties elsewhere, I was really happy to have Thai take-away for dinner last night. And there's some lasagne in the freezer that would be good for dinner tonight. Even the Czarina sometimes needs a mini-break from cooking.

Scenes from a Feast: The Menu

Dwayne and Mark brought lovely little filo bird nests stuffed with Gruyere, onion and pear. There weren't many left.


















Second course was a creamy butternut squash & ginger soup with garlic crouton. We had a wee guest of 4, who came up to me with her bowl and said, "Very good soup, thank you. I'd like more, please". And that is also the point at which the Children's Table vacated, the 2 little girls into The Child's room to play princess and The Child and C., who is 10, off to the family room to play computer games.

Salad was a mesclun mix with sugared pecans and dried cherries, in a shallot vinaigrette.

(Here's the trick; it is the yummiest dressing ever:

Shallot Vinaigrette
An hour or two before making your salad put 1 Tablespoon of good quality vinegar (red wine or sherry) into a bowl with a pinch of salt. Into another bowl place about 1 T. of minced shallot and 3 T. extra-virgin olive oil. Let them sit on the counter and just before salad time, whisk the vinegar and oil together and toss with the salad. I don't know what it is about steeping the shallots in oil but it is a little vat of yum).

Then it was time to announce, "Lords and ladies, please be upstanding for the goose".
The Spouse is just wicked with a roasted bird.















The goose was served with a fabulously rich sauce full of goosey-winey goodness. It was accompanied by pears, marinated in brandy, honey & herbs, which then had their little cavities filled with bleu cheese and were baked until warm and the cheese was melty. This was served on a bed of fennel and other greens that Dwayne had brought along. There was sage & onion dressing, cranberry relish and haricot vert tossed with caramelized shallots.

Some time later, after the gifts and crackers, it was time for eggnog cake served with a late harvest Reisling. Here, have a glass.

















The Dog got 2 tiny bits of goose and was allowed to lick the roasting rack. He was very happy.

I'm Not Going to Write Anything Profound but I Am Going to Complain

Back when I was birthing The Child there were some contortions involved that I was oblivious to at the time but which, a few days later, when I was off pain meds, became all too apparent. A muscle in my back had been snarfled out of position or something and I couldn't stand upright. Some more good meds and a physical therapy session or two later everything was back to normal.

The trouble is, now that part of my back is easily prone to tweaking out over the merest of things. On Saturday I slipped on some ice and in my attempt not to land on my arse I messed it up again. To further complicate matters, on Sunday I slipped in an oil spill in a garage.

I am in some serious pain, right now people. There's nothing to be done for it but doing pain-inducing stretches, taking Tylenol and slathering muscle rub all over my back. And while the minty freshness of the oinment is delightful, it hurts to move and it's pissing me off! I grow weary of being wicky in the wacky woo and it's just a darned good thing that it's not Saturday and time for the Superfantastic All-Request All-80s Dance Party Countdown Hit Music Weekend Video Spectacular because I couldn't walk like an Egyptian if I wanted to.

Also, last night the knob for the dryer broke. It can still be operated with pliers but the replacement part was $30. $30 for a frakking 2.5 inch piece of plastic. The new one better be studded with diamond chips.

And while I'm on it, a few Christmases ago The Spouse surprised me with a lovely pair of ruby and diamond earrings. I wore them to the theatah on Friday night. Before bed, I put them on a shelf in the bathroom and now only one of them is there. The good news is that the other one has to be in the house somewhere but it hasn't turned up yet. Bummer.

Today is the feast of St. Nicholas. The Child puts her shoes by the fireplace so St. Nicholas can fill them with candy and a little gift. We also make a batch of speculatis...a yummy ginger cookie...and make St. Nicholas cookies. I didn't remember any of this until 9:15 last night. There was some candy in the house so that was covered but what to do about a gift? I ran over to The Neighbor's and we rifled through her (adult) daughter's room and The Neighb found 2 little red silk purses. Then she remembered she had some ginger cookie dough from Ikea in her freezer. The holiday was saved.

Sheesh.

Thanksgiving Dinner

sFirst, you have to cook it. Emma, who heretofore would like to be known as Jane Austen, was of great help to her mother and I. She peeled potatoes.

She also managed to stir gravy and yams at the same time. She's in college. We're very proud of her. (Except that she's 19 and still hasn't registered to vote. She got an earful about that but has promised to be registered by the next presidential election).

(I had some darling photos of her here but Blogger ate them & won't let me put them back. Blogger's a booger).

Sometimes my multi-talented Mols joined the cooking fun. There was much bursting into song and Audrey Hepburn had to keep shushing us. We get a little enthusiastic when we do show tunes.






















Here's Audrey, giving my yams a taste test. Funny thing about our holiday menu. There are always yams, because it is tradition. Only about 3 of us actually eat them. (They were good this year, though, even though I ended up skipping the homemade marshamallows and doing an orange-balsamic vinegar-maple syrup mash thing. Yum. To the 3 of us that eat them, that is).




















Audrey made a splendid feast although the turkey took longer than she had planned which meant people were getting testy because the meal that was supposed to start at 2 didn't until 3 but my job was to to give her stirring words of encouragement, because even though people were ready for more than black olives and baby corn, one certainly doesn't want to serve undercooked turkey. Audrey held fast and besides, the gravy was taking its own sweet time thickening, despite repeated applications of cornstarch slurry. It was like it knew. And when the gravy magically came to the proper thickness the turkey was ready. And it was delicious. As were her mashed potatoes and dressing (and stuffing) and all the other delectable things that were spread out on our very long table.

Also, my other sister, Martha Stewart, had a plan to make aprons for all the moms but things, like life, got in the way of that project so she just went into her stash of vintage aprons (which number in the 40s...she really is frakking Martha Stewart...I mean, seriously, who do you know that collects vintage aprons?) She chose them according to each woman's style. Mine is a fab 50's retro, black and white graphic thing with a little trim of lavendar on the pockets. I heart my apron so much and I plan on wearing it every day when I do housework. It is super fantastic.














And then, because this was the point of gathering from all four winds, we gathered around the beautifully decorated and laden table, held hands for grace, sang the Doxology in 40 part harmony and tucked in.






Pass that perfectly roasted turkey and gorgeously thick gravy, please.

What the...

I had a grocery bag on the floor, left from Friday's shopping excursion, into which I had put the things I need for Thanksgiving (not much as we are going to Audrey Hepburn's and all I'm bringing is yams (with home-made marshmallows) and a loaf of bread (an herb braid which I expect I'll be making on Wednesday morning). Anyhoo, I was fixing on moving it into the "root cellar", as we poetically refer to the garage and I noticed 3 big, fat russet potatoes.

I have absolutely no idea why I bought them. Potatoes weren't on the menu this week.

It's odd that I should buy potatoes without a plan. But it is fortuitous. A glance at the menu shows that I neglected to plan something for dinner tomorrow, what with my excitement over tonight's feast and not really having to do much cooking Wednesday and Thursday, what with being with extended family and all. Potato and corn chowder sounds good, doesn't it?

Hostess Gifts

I've said it before but it bears repeating: I would still invite the usual suspects to the Autumnal Feast even if they didn't bring such superfantastic hostess gifts. A small token for the hostess is always a lovely gesture but it's not expected. However, the two couples in question have a tendancy to outdo themselves and it always makes the Autumnal Feast feel a smidge like Christmas.

(Btw, the guests brought tokens for the rest of the family, too. The Child got a wild orange feather boa with little lights in it and a pair of earrings. The Spouse got a CD, plus, of course, he gets to enjoy the gifts I received.)

So first off, The Boys gave us this superfantastic microplane box grater. If you have never used a microplane grater you are missing out on some culinary ecstacy. Seriously. It is a joy to cook with well-made tools that are perfectly designed for their function. I heart this.



















ChouChou had called earlier in the week to ask for gift ideas. (I don't know why because she has been giving me lovely things for 15 years without any help). I sent her in the direction of a beautiful bowl I'd seen at Williams Sonoma. Actually, we had given the same bowl as a wedding present to the Bride & Groom last month and I'd been thinking of snagging one for myself ever since. So I wasn't surprised when I opened this up:



















What I didn't expect was to receive these as well:



















Aren't they just the coolest thing ever? I heart them, too. Even though it's not about the stuff.

Autumnal Feast 2006

A fire roaring on the hearth. Lamplight and candles. The Child working the catwalk as she modelled her bridesmaids dress. The Dog sitting oh so patiently at the table, praying for someone to drop a crumb. Laughter. Talking about "Battlestar Galactica" and why they should all be watching it. Examining the Democrats chances for victory in 17 days. Fabulous hostess gifts. The Cardinal asking ChouChou if she had purchased the port at "Reasonably Honest Mufasa's House of Port". (He was being amusing. The port was delicious). Stacks of empty, sticky plates. Autumn has officially begun.




The Menu
i
Cheese and Salmon Tart ala The Boys
Veuve Cliquot
(my favoritest champagne ever)

ii
Wontons Stuffed with Wild Mushrooms & Shallots on a Tomato Cream Sauce
2005 Charles Shaw Sauvignon Blanc

(I neglected to take a picture. These are the mushrooms).













iii
Cream of Parsnip Soup with Carrot Puree & Walnut-Chevre Crostini
2004 Dry Creek Fumé Blanc
















iv
Mixed Greens with Cranberry Bits & Hazelnuts in Raspberry Vineagrette















v
Spiced Chicken Breasts with Roasted Pears, Shallots & Garlic
Wild Mushroom Rice Pilaf
Green Beans in Pepper Cumberbunds with Sautéed Cherry Tomatoes

2003 Napa River Merlot
2003 Jackaroo Shiraz














vi
Apple Charlotte with Caramel Sauce & Whipped Cream
with Fonseca Port Bin #27 & Stilton


(I also neglected to take a picture of the pretty little charlottes but this is what ChouChou's plate looked liked after dessert).










The port and Stilton



















The Cardinal, saving the caramel sauce while The Child whips the cream.

I Just Love it When

....The Child gets out her homework and does it without a word from moi.

...the morning of the Autumnal Feast starts out foggy and chill. I got up early this a.m. (for a Saturday, I mean) and the house was shrouded with mistiness. It's clearing off now, which is fine as well because I would rather harvest apples in the crisp than the wet.

...the whole day is stretching out in front of me and all I have to do is soak dried mushrooms, chop aromatics, caramelize apples, clarify butter, grind spices, trim baby peppers, slice pears, toast crostini (and walnuts and hazelnuts), seal wontons, make sauce (3 - one for the amuse bouche, one for the entree and one for dessert) and set the table.

...I set the Autumnal Feast table with leaves The Child has collected, strewing them over the burgandy and cream table cloth (red wine stains don't show as much). I love arranging the candles and plates and calligraphing the guests names onto cards for the jewel colored place holders.

...the first cup of coffee tastes this good.

....the morning sun peeps over the top of The Neighbor's house and into my writing window.

Good News, Better News

The news out of North Korea today is positive. I hope it's true.

---

Meanwhile, tomorrow night is the annual Autumnal Feast. Which I can't blog about at the moment because some of the guests read this blog and you know how I am about secrecy.

I can tell you this: it will be yummy. Dessert will involve apples from my own apple stick.

I'll blog all about it tomorrow but for now I have some shopping and prep work to do.

End of an Era

We've all had this happen. We go along with our lives and try to "enjoy every sandwich" but you know how it goes. We become complacent. Sure, we appreciate the presence of the other in our lives but assume, callously, that they'll always be there.

Then something happens. Maybe it's the cumulative effect of a thousand little inattentions. Maybe it's just age, familiarity and weariness. But suddenly, when we least expect it and likely when things actually seem to be going pretty well, there is a break. It is so small we don't even notice it at first and then, without warning, the dam bursts and we're left with, well, nothing. Nothing but a memory.

And 15 years is a long time. Especially by today's standards. Ours is a planned-obsolescence-love-'em-and-leave-'em society. It happens. And yet...

So it is with a heavy but resigned heart that I tell you, today, October 12, 2006, my crockpot died. The crockpot that has served us well since the day we were married. The crockpot relied upon for Thursday night suppers and chili feasts. Oh, the chili feast! We're having one this weekend and here I sit with nothing but the ruins of a lost love.

My heart is breaking but I must high-tail it to Costco to buy a new one. Ooh, maybe even one in stainless steel.

Oh, how quickly we move on.

Behind the Camera

That's the title of The Spouse's blog, which I don't link to because he doesn't post on it very often (but I probably should just because, you know, he's my spouse). He spent many years of his young life working in the TV/movie biz, as an electrician. He loved the work, although it was always feast or famine. He made a lot of money when he worked but it had to last until the next gig, which is why he also spent all those years cooking in restaurants.

The movie scene in Seattle looked, back there in the early '90's, like it was going to be the Next Big Thing. But Washington state didn't manage the opportunity very well, which is why, to this day, most movies that are set in Seattle are actually shot in Vancouver, B.C. This posed an issue for The Spouse. He could, like a lot of his film buddies, take the plunge and move to L.A., where there was plenty of work or he could stay here and eke out a living.

When we got married I had a good job. We could have played "Starving Artist and the Breadwinner" quite happily. Or he could have lived in LA 6 months out of the year (because I had NO interest in living in LA, not even with the man I loved. Which is probably the difference between someone who gets married in her 20's vs someone in her mid 30s but there it is). He, however, was the one who made all the "house and kid" noises. And the one thing I wasn't going to do was raise a kid in LA and/or by myself part-time.

There were no ultimatums or acrimony. He just had a decision to make and obviously, he chose to leave the biz. He became a computer programmer and provides us with a very nice life. We have a sweet little house, cars that run & a beautiful child. He made it possible for me to stay home with our baby and now to stay home and try to make my way in the world as a writer (and we all know how much that pays). Our child is in private school. We have a good life but sometimes I've wondered if he ever had regrets.

The Spouse is very creative. He makes little movies all the time, editing together fun bits on his PC. He's helped a co-worker, who is an aspiring film-maker, make a film. He's got a script of his own that he would like to shoot, just for grins. And yet...

He found a call for volunteers to crew a film being shot here in town and hopped on board. He took some vacation time and he's been lighting this little movie called "Fortune Hunters" since Saturday. The last day of shooting is Sunday. He is having the time of his life. The Child and I visited the set yesterday and everyone we met (including the director...who couldn't have been a nicer guy) kept thanking us for "sharing" him. I suppose we are. We haven't seen much of him since Saturday evening. Shoots are wrapping late at night so The Child and I are eating without him and going to bed 'way before he gets home. But he is so happy that we don't mind.

Here's the thing: we did have the evening together on Saturday and he was raving about his first day and how many people he's working with who know the people he knows. He was telling me about one guy, who is a neighbor, who has a family and spends 6 months of the year in LA. He told me how patient and appreciative everyone was, how fun it was to be doing such physical work again. Then he looked at me and said, "I had to make a big decision 15 years ago and you know what? I don't regret it for a minute". He has a job (which technically makes him the only person on the film who's getting paid) and isn't stressing about doing such a great job that he'll get hired again. This time it's just for fun and for the love of doing it. Which couldn't be sweeter.

Now that he's gotten his feet wet, I wouldn't be surprised if he does a few more things like this. Maybe he could even get a little day player work so he can finance his own film. I'm just thrilled that he has made a hobby of something he is good at and loves so much. I think that's what you call a win/win.

Bad Alice Asks

Bad Alice was wondering where she'd get lavendar for the chicken recipe I gave the other day. (You're right, BA, it isn't something commonly found in the produce section but get yourself a little plant from a nursery and grow it in a pot. It will make you happy even if you never cook with it).

I really like lavendar. It's cooking applications are limited and I haven't figured out how to make those groovy lavendar wands that look so very Martha Stewart when placed in one's linen closet. (I found directions once but just don't have the crafty gene). But it is beautiful and fragrant and grows exceedingly well in crap soil so long as it gets lots of sun and doesn't get watered very often. Which makes it the perfect garden plant pour moi. That is why I have it growing here:















and here:
















and (cue the Edith Piaf) here:





















I also have a quantity of rosemary.

Solstice Feast

Tomatoes, about to be roasted. As was I. Yesterday was very warm and only enhanced by the Viking blasting BTUs for a couple hours. But it was so worth it. Here's what we ate and drank:

i
Green Olives with Orange Zest
Peach Bellinis

ii
Shrimp, Asparagus and Lemon Zest in Italian Dressing
2005 Hogue Chardonnay

(This was the amuse bouche course, jp, which translates as "amuse the mouth"...just a little taste of something, almost for the fun of it. These were arranged on scallop shells and looked very pretty. See?)

iii

Mesclun Salad with Caramelized Pears wrapped with Proscuitto, Toasted Hazelnuts and a Maple Syrup Vinaigrette

iv

Chicken Paillard with Chevre and Lavendar Honey on Spinach

Roasted Tomato & Ricotta Tart

Melange of Haricot Vert, Wax Beans & Baby Carrots with Butter & Dill

Bonny Doon Vin Gris de Cigare, 2003 & 2005 (we liked the '05 best)

As you can see, there was a great deal of documentation going on. ("Did you get a picture of that for your blog?" The Spouse kept saying). And yet, the entree came and went without anyone thinking of pulling out the camera. This is what ChouChou's plate looked like afterwards, though.

I guess it was good.

v

There is a story behind dessert. The Boys always bring the pudding and a fine job they do of it, too. I don't tell this story to cast aspersions and you must understand that because I love The Boys, they are lovely people and nothing negative is to be read into this: they made a cake and left it at home. They also made vanilla ice cream and that came with them. Fortunately, The Child had baked a hot milk sponge cake the day before. (She got the baking gene). So The Boys plated up slices of her cake with the ice cream and peach puree left over from our bellinis. It was delicious. They also served us a 2003 Canoe Ridge Late Harvest Gewurztraminer which was nigh unto ambrosia.

This was a happy enough ending but The Boys, as they were leaving, made noises about coming 'round with the double ginger cherry upside down cake that they had made and so we devised a plan and they are coming back to dinner tonight. Ha! We're going to marinate a little rack of lamb chops and grill those. We're going to have shrimp cocktail first and then the lamb with couscous & asparagus (and I'm thinking everything is going to be done on the grill because it's supposed to get into the 90s today) and a big salad and then the cake. So all's well that ends well.

Now, here is my recipe for the chicken, which I made up out of my own little head and which is really, really tasty and I'm not kidding. I'm giving you the recipe for 6 but you could easily increase or decrease the quantities to serve just your own self, a crowd of hundreds or anything inbetween:

Chicken Paillard with Chevre & Lavendar Honey

1 c. clover honey

6-8 sprigs of lavendar

6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

6 oz. chevre, crumbled

Place honey and lavendar in a saucepan and heat over low flame for 10 minutes. Turn off heat and allow lavendar to steep in the honey. This can be done well ahead of dinner time.

Place the chicken between 2 layers of plastic wrap and pound out to 1/4 inch thickness.

Heat large pan over medium high heat, add a couple T. olive oil and saute chicken breasts about 4 minutes on each side or until cooked through. (If making several batches, remove cooked chicken to an ovenproof plate and set aside in a low oven to keep warm). Put one cooked paillard on each dinner plate and deglaze the saute pan with a little brandy (or dry sherry or white wine, whatever you have on hand) and spoon a little of the pan juices over each paillard. Then dress each paillard with 1-2 T of lavendar honey and an ounce or so of the crumbled chevre. Garnish with a sprig of lavendar and serve.