Friday, a full week and two days prior to the dinner, menu nailed down, wines sort of nebulously chosen, and I'm having my hair cut. My hairdresser is amazing - truly an artist. She and her husband own Chef's Touch catering, and used to run a restaurant. So I share the menu with her, wanting her input. Remember, Peter is a foodie and has an amazing palette when it comes to wines, and I really want to nail this out of the park, like he always does for me. I had chosen J Brut Rose as the sparkling, and JoEllen suggested I use Roederer, instead. Remember that, because it comes back later. I'd never had it, never heard of it (yes, I am as much a creature of habit when it comes to wine as I am when it comes to cooking - part of what makes these forays so much fun is that I delve into areas not normally pursued by me), but trusted Jo implicitly. Okay, Roederer it was. The sparkling was still a dry rose, and would lend itself to the creation of the Mignonette I was going to create for dipping. Okay, appetizer course all finished. Except - wait a second here - I've never opened a live oyster in my life. As far as I knew, oysters came on a bed of ice, lemon garnish and weird sauces getting in the way of that briny, yet somehow earthy, goodness. Ah, heck, and I'm a klutz. So I'm supposed to hold these very sharp shells in one hand, take a knife in the other hand, and look for the 'foot' - I thought that was a terrorist group of Ninjas that the Teenage Mutant Turtles put to rest a long time ago - who knew it belonged to the oyster? Not me! And panic sets in ... am I going to have to ask Peter to show up, after tasting some of the better (in my opinion) wines in the Valley and open oysters? Crap - I was going to have to change the dang menu. And then JoEllen's husband Kurt walked into the shop. He grabbed a glass of champagne, came over to where Jo was working on my hair, and I asked if he'd critique a menu for me. Sure, of course, was the answer. I rattled off the Roederer champagne with oysters and that M sauce word I can't pronounce. He laughed, pronounced it for me, yep, that's it, I agreed, and we moved on to the second course. I was going to do a seared scallop and pair it with Chennin Blanc. He suggested not doing three fish courses, but rather using the middle course as a palette cleanser. Well, it was initially going to be a tomato bisque, I confessed. He suggested mixing that idea up a bit, by doing a chopped tomato-cucumber salad, put a ball-shaped serving in the middle of the plate, ring it with bisque, a little thicker than normal, served warm, and pair it with the Chennin Blanc and some crusty French bread. JoEllen told me to go to the Baker's Table in town for the best bread ever, and my second course was adjusted. Okay, on to the third course - salmon. A fish I eat if I'm having bagels and lox. Not a fish I've ever cooked, or ever sought to cook, or ever even thought I'd want to cook. Yet here I was, about to cook salmon filets. I'd found a great recipe, with shitakes and red wine sauce, served over wild rice. But it didn't really say anything about how to prep the salmon - just shove it in the oven. Instinctively, I already knew I'd be using my iron skillet - but surely there had to be more to it than that? Oh, yes, Chef Kurtie agreed with me - much more! He cautioned me that there was no fresh salmon to be had; no worries. I didn't eat salmon - how different could it be, fresh from not? He hooked me up with the contact for the oysters, told me how to prepare the salmon, and, before I left with a brilliant hair cut, he'd agreed to come to the house at 4:00 on THE DAY to shuck the oysters for me. Okay, this was all coming together! Excitement continued to bloom ....
The following day I stopped at Keith and Kristen's house, my family in every respect but blood, and I shared the menu with them. When I said 'salmon', Kristen shared a glance with Keith, who suddenly disappeared into the laundry-pantry off the kitchen, and came back with a big slab of pink fish. 'Salmon,' he pronounced, 'caught by my son-in-law Shaun. Fresh wild Alaskan salmon. Here.'
Oh hell .... this was getting better and better. Keith told me how to thaw it out to get to the point I could begin the 24-hour dry-rub refrigerated stage Kurtie had suggested I use. Suddenly I felt like I could really do this - chop scallions (ick!), slice and dice onions (so not a fan), ruin champagne by pouring it over scallions, skin a salmon (gulp!), and actually pull off this meal.
Fast forward - Sunday. Grocery shopping done, back home, ready to begin getting the house ready for company. I've decided I should entertain at least once a month - that way, my house will get cleaned at least once a month. I even polished the outside of my front door - it looks like a different door! Sorry - I digress. Before I stared cleaning, I shot a quick text to Kurtie: 'can you still come by around 4 and shuck oysters for me?'. I set my phone aside and went into frenzied cleaning mode. By two that afternoon, I'd not heard from Kurtie. Panic set in. So I went to the people I always go to when I panic. "Kristen! Where are you guys?" They were shopping for the house, out and about. But she said they'd be home by 4, and sure, I could come by with oysters and Keith would shuck them. Great - I calmed down immediately. Now to finish cleaning the house, then clean me, walk the dog, and it'll be time to head to Keith and Kristen's house. The Little Boy began really tugging on the lead as we approached the steps leading to my house, so I quickened my pace, head down as I focused on not falling (knee was acting up and the walking was terrifically painful) - and damn near ran straight into Keith. He and Kristen had been at the furniture store immediately beneath my flat, so he decided to come up and take care of the oysters here. Oh, blessings upon blessings!
He washed them. Who knew you had to wash an oyster? That step would never have occurred to me. He was struggling with oyster number three when my screen door was thrown open and a voice called out, "Is this where the party is?" and in walked Kurtie. It was 4:03; he'd sent me a text at 3:57 saying he'd be there. In short work, he knocked out the other ten oysters, arranged them between layers of ice on a plate, and then he and Keith were walking out the door. I was left alone with just my food and my dog.
Every single aspect of the meal had been touched by the people in my life .... in one format or another.
When Peter saw the sparkling, he said he'd just had it the night before at the Wine Cask. Obviously he liked it; already I was feeling pretty good about this. When he questioned the amount of oysters, I told him I'd be more than willing to eat his share. He enjoyed the Mignonette, I ate the oysters all alone - why spoil one of Nature's most perfect foods? - and before we even knew it the oysters were gone. "I guess the portions really were perfect," he admitted as he helped clear the table.
The bisque was being stored in a plastic tub that originally held arborio rice, and when I spooned it around the tomato-cucumber salad, Peter looked at me a little funny. "What?" I asked. "I thought it was dry," he said. "Nope, it's bisque." In fact, it was warm bisque. I handed him a plate and a small fork, sliced the warmed French bread, and joined him at the table. "A fork? Not a spoon?" he asked. Dutifully, I returned to the kitchen and pulled out two spoons, giving him one, taking one myself. "No, if you think I won't need the spoon," he began, but I just waved the comment off, eager to taste this combination recommended by Kurt. Amazing - I'd added mushrooms to my bisque, since I really liked the way the mushrooms deepen the sweeter notes of the tomato, and it would be a nice flow into the main course and the shitake mushrooms being used therein. But the fresh tomato and cucumber, with that heavy, earthy bisque? Oh my goodness - perfect! The Chennin Blanc was just round enough to marry to the bisque, just crisp enough to make the cucumber shine. And the French bread was every bit as delicious as JoEllen promised me it would be. All in all, the second course was a hit. As I picked up Peter's spoon, clearing the table, he said, "I never used it; it's still clean."
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| Salmon with Shitake and Red Wine Sauce |
When every last bit of food had disappeared from our plates, the last of the wine emptied from the carafe, Peter paid the ultimate compliment: "Not only did everything work well together and taste delicious, the portions were perfect. Excellent, Natalie."
Yeah, I pulled a Tina - nailed it right out of the park. Thanks to my Village.
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