Apologies for the silence. And no, in case you´re wondering, I have not been nursing an epic hangover for the last few days (I was fully recovered and sparkling crystal clear within just one blessed revolution of the sun, or earth rather). It is merely that life got in my way, in her usual crafty manner. But enough excuses, back to the feast . . .
“Ouu, yay, mashed potatoes, my favorite,” said Jacob as I plunked down a steaming dish onto the table. “No,” I corrected him, bristling. “Its fennel puree. Well, to be exact its fennel puree made with the addition of some mashed potatoes.”
“Ouu, yay, mashed potatoes, my favorite,” said Jacob as I plunked down a steaming dish onto the table. “No,” I corrected him, bristling. “Its fennel puree. Well, to be exact its fennel puree made with the addition of some mashed potatoes.”
“Like I said, he continued grinning, “I love a good mash.”
I sighed. Any cook—from mom with her mama’s potatoes to the most lauded chef with his signature dish of truffle-infused, sage-rubbed, flash-seared god knows what—knows the importance of wording in the presentation of a meal. So it is rather exasperating to have one’s guests reduce one’s fennel puree to mere mashed potatoes. Bah!
Nonetheless, this slandered puree was a highlight of the meal; a soft aromatic swirl of fennel root and seeds, cream and potatoes. Its herbal-tinged aroma coupled particularly well with the fruity sweetness of the blackberries—a very good combo indeed.
I must, however, admit that the dinner conversation was not as elevated as the food—although just as juicy. Somehow we got onto the subject of high school parties, many of which are treasure troves packed with unrepeatable details of shameless shenanigans. As Danielle pointed out, most of them devolved into nudity. And barely any provocation was needed for the clothing to come flying off. Booze was the most common cause, with that comforting qualification it invariably provides. But even the slightest tipple seemed to be the only proviso we required. And on one memorable occasion we even found ourselves in the paradisaical state after an unusually indulgent dinner at my place. Later, the others claimed I’d put something in the food. Honestly!
The fifth feast continued its downward spiral—despite a saintly dessert of homemade, agave-sweetened raspberry frozen yogurt. By 11 pm we were crowded around my computer watching juvenile yet hopelessly funny videos on You Tube. Don’t ask. Just think Justin Timberlake, unusual Christmas presents, and mother lovers. Still, at least we didn’t end up in the nuddy. It’s good to know we’ve evolved slightly.
I sighed. Any cook—from mom with her mama’s potatoes to the most lauded chef with his signature dish of truffle-infused, sage-rubbed, flash-seared god knows what—knows the importance of wording in the presentation of a meal. So it is rather exasperating to have one’s guests reduce one’s fennel puree to mere mashed potatoes. Bah!
Nonetheless, this slandered puree was a highlight of the meal; a soft aromatic swirl of fennel root and seeds, cream and potatoes. Its herbal-tinged aroma coupled particularly well with the fruity sweetness of the blackberries—a very good combo indeed.
I must, however, admit that the dinner conversation was not as elevated as the food—although just as juicy. Somehow we got onto the subject of high school parties, many of which are treasure troves packed with unrepeatable details of shameless shenanigans. As Danielle pointed out, most of them devolved into nudity. And barely any provocation was needed for the clothing to come flying off. Booze was the most common cause, with that comforting qualification it invariably provides. But even the slightest tipple seemed to be the only proviso we required. And on one memorable occasion we even found ourselves in the paradisaical state after an unusually indulgent dinner at my place. Later, the others claimed I’d put something in the food. Honestly!
The fifth feast continued its downward spiral—despite a saintly dessert of homemade, agave-sweetened raspberry frozen yogurt. By 11 pm we were crowded around my computer watching juvenile yet hopelessly funny videos on You Tube. Don’t ask. Just think Justin Timberlake, unusual Christmas presents, and mother lovers. Still, at least we didn’t end up in the nuddy. It’s good to know we’ve evolved slightly.
Perhaps, either at the beginning, or at the end of your post, would you include your guest list and the complete menu, including; cocktails, wine and digestives, etc… That way, I need only review the stats and not necessarily read the complete post. Just Kidding ! I am enjoying it all ! Cheers, Marty
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