here is the menu for Lucy's birthday dinner. Let's see what it looks like come Sunday.
also guys lamb is way expensive.
Eggplant Caviar, Tuscan White Bean,
Neopolitan, and Tomato Bruschetta with Crostini
Cream of Asparagus
With Seared Sea Scallops
Spinach Ricotta Wonton Ravioli
with Walnut Cream Sauce
Braised Rack of Lamb with Mint-Basil Pesto
Birthday Sundae
Molten Chocolate Cake with Vanilla Mascarpone Ice Cream
and Strawberry Sauce topped with Cointreau Whipped Cream
and imported Fabri Cherry
Friday, April 13, 2007
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Birthday Dinner Challenge, Day One
My wife's birthday is on Monday and I have been given the task of preparing her a birthday dinner on Sunday. We're looking at multiple courses, bottles of wine, hours of preparation, things I've never done before. Who knows what those things will be, though, as I have no menu.
I checked the new Mario Batali cookbook out of the library to get some ideas, and in the process made fettucini carbonara for dinner tonight, but I'm a little wary of 'cuttlefish with chickpeas.' The wife looked through the book and said it all sounded good to her, but I know secretly she wants me to recreate a ravioli she had over our honeymoon. I've never made pasta before, much less ravioli. That shit is crazy.
I will certainly be hitting up Wegman's to see if they have any specials on game hens or something. Last time I did that I ended up spending like $30 on one meal featuring a cheese plate that smelled like burning tires driving through a peat bog and salmon that was straight from TGI Fridays in Des Moines.
So what will she get? Steak au Poivre with blanched asparagus under shallot foam? Short ribs cooked in wine more expensive than my entire wardrobe? Waffles?
I'm not sure but I aim to find out.
I checked the new Mario Batali cookbook out of the library to get some ideas, and in the process made fettucini carbonara for dinner tonight, but I'm a little wary of 'cuttlefish with chickpeas.' The wife looked through the book and said it all sounded good to her, but I know secretly she wants me to recreate a ravioli she had over our honeymoon. I've never made pasta before, much less ravioli. That shit is crazy.
I will certainly be hitting up Wegman's to see if they have any specials on game hens or something. Last time I did that I ended up spending like $30 on one meal featuring a cheese plate that smelled like burning tires driving through a peat bog and salmon that was straight from TGI Fridays in Des Moines.
So what will she get? Steak au Poivre with blanched asparagus under shallot foam? Short ribs cooked in wine more expensive than my entire wardrobe? Waffles?
I'm not sure but I aim to find out.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Adventures in Corn Pt. I: Polenta.
Corn isn't the perfect foodstuff by any means, but it is indispensible. Just thinking about it makes me patriotic. I can imagine Italians and French and English just sitting around eating dirt because they don't know what's what and then some dudes on a boat say 'Hey we got this from the savages' and holding up a bunch of corn and then immediately food is invented and everybody wants to go to America because that is where the action is.
I grew up with the American South staples at the table, and cornmeal is one of those things that just belongs in the pantry. However I rarely broke my cornmeal out to give it its rightful place on the dinner table, mostly I used it to dust pizza stones and provide dust protection for the boxes of cornbread mix behind it. This is a situation that had to be remedied, and what better way to start an Adventure in Corn than with the most basic cornmeal dish one can prepare: polenta.
Polenta is the classy Italian Restaurant name for boiled cornmeal. You may see it at that fancy eatery where it accompanies a $30 short rib medly, and that is because restaurants really think it is hilarious when people pay $30 for a dish where the side cost about $0.15 to prepare enough for 50 people. This is why Mario Batali is so happy and snide looking.
Making polenta isn't as simple as cooking pasta, though. You gotta stir the cornmeal into cold water first before adding the boiling water so it doesn't get all clumpy and then basically heat the stuff for half an hour, stirring the entire time until your muscles feel as though you have been throwing baseballs all day. Basically all the water will boil out and the cornmush will burp and erupt frequently like a landscape of scalding quicksand gyesers. The substance will start creeping up your wooden spoon and you will think it is an alien symbiote and you will turn into Corn Spiderman but really the polenta just wants to get to know you a little. Be friendly with it but don't hesitate to let it know you will eat it if it acts a fool.
In the end the mush is thick as very thick goo. This is when you realize boiled cornmush will be gross by itself and you add some butter and parmesean cheese or whatever. Maybe a little hot sauce would be a good idea too.
The thing about polenta is it is neither a liquid nor a solid, and foods like that are gross if you think about them. So eat it while it is hot before it tries to turn into a pasta brick. Put some tomato sauce on it, people will think that is ok.
I grew up with the American South staples at the table, and cornmeal is one of those things that just belongs in the pantry. However I rarely broke my cornmeal out to give it its rightful place on the dinner table, mostly I used it to dust pizza stones and provide dust protection for the boxes of cornbread mix behind it. This is a situation that had to be remedied, and what better way to start an Adventure in Corn than with the most basic cornmeal dish one can prepare: polenta.
Polenta is the classy Italian Restaurant name for boiled cornmeal. You may see it at that fancy eatery where it accompanies a $30 short rib medly, and that is because restaurants really think it is hilarious when people pay $30 for a dish where the side cost about $0.15 to prepare enough for 50 people. This is why Mario Batali is so happy and snide looking.
Making polenta isn't as simple as cooking pasta, though. You gotta stir the cornmeal into cold water first before adding the boiling water so it doesn't get all clumpy and then basically heat the stuff for half an hour, stirring the entire time until your muscles feel as though you have been throwing baseballs all day. Basically all the water will boil out and the cornmush will burp and erupt frequently like a landscape of scalding quicksand gyesers. The substance will start creeping up your wooden spoon and you will think it is an alien symbiote and you will turn into Corn Spiderman but really the polenta just wants to get to know you a little. Be friendly with it but don't hesitate to let it know you will eat it if it acts a fool.
In the end the mush is thick as very thick goo. This is when you realize boiled cornmush will be gross by itself and you add some butter and parmesean cheese or whatever. Maybe a little hot sauce would be a good idea too.
The thing about polenta is it is neither a liquid nor a solid, and foods like that are gross if you think about them. So eat it while it is hot before it tries to turn into a pasta brick. Put some tomato sauce on it, people will think that is ok.
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