We Love our Guests
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We Love our Guests


Guest photographer Amy Wilson. All images copyright her.

If a soufflé fell at the table, and no one was there to eat it, would it still taste as good?

Great guests are like wine; they enhance even the humblest of meals. For weeks after the the chocolate dinner, Melissa and I reminisced about the fun we had with three of her co-workers from Cody's. They're a sweet group of women that, like us, have a passion for books, and conversation flows easily when they're around. Melissa adds that I enjoyed myself so much because I—the one guy—cooked for and had dinner with four smart, attractive women. Wisely, I remain silent on this point.

Stephanie and CaviarGood guests enhance a meal, but they also inspire the hosts. We see it as a chance to make our friends feel special and we know they'll appreciate it. Melissa adores her Cody's friends (note wise silence) and wanted us to serve an elegant meal. Naturally, we started with caviar. Our guests topped homemade blini with creme fraiche and three flavored, colorful caviars from Tsar Nicoulai. Ah, you think, surely they served Champagne. Très élégant. But no. We knew Champagne would arrive later, so we poured the lightly effervescent but potently crisp and flavorful Txacolina from Northern Spain's Basque country.

From that festive appetizer we moved to a salad Melissa considers among the best I've ever made. I dressed watercress with a star anise vinaigrette and then mixed in duck confit and garlic confit. I piled the salad atop a breaded and fried orange slice. It was a swan song for the last of that batch of duck confit, which I prefer to a duck song for a swan confit. I chose a peppery, minerally, acidic, and decidedly funky 2001 Brundlmayer Gruner Veltliner to accompany this dish. The crisp wine slithered through the fat in the confits, held its own against the light vinaigrette, and connected with the peppery watercress. This was probably the most flawless dish in the meal. Other dishes were prettier, but the flavors here just nailed it.

Melissa requested the main course: roast turkey washed down with a Fleurie rosé Champagne. We typically order three heritage turkeys for Thanksgiving so that we can stow one in the freezer and enjoy it later. I'm not sure if Melissa wanted to share something special with her friends or if she simply wanted more freezer space for ice cream. I fanned breast slices (too much SF dining makes me fan meat every chance I get) over a salad of truly wild rice and exotic mushrooms, and doused the whole thing with a reduction of turkey stock and the liquid left after rehydrating porcini mushrooms.

For the cheese course, I decided to experiment. I've mostly stopped using my guests as guinea pigs, but every now and then the urge strikes. I served slices of Capricious and Pleasant Ridge Reserve with a soft, eggy custard. I wanted the squishy softness of the custard to contrast with the smooth firmness of the cheeses. Melissa thought it seemed like a third, runny cheese. I topped the custard with an apple-ginger chutney, and we served the dish with a rich and nutty 10-year-old tawny port.

DessertI wanted the meal to end spectacularly for the four smart, attractive...uh, I mean for Melissa and her friends. I opted for a height-laden chocolate dessert. Edgy, I know. I placed candied orange peel and spun chile caramel on top of the tall cylinders of chocolate ganache sitting on shortbread rounds. How do you make spun chile caramel? That was an experiment, and I'm happy to say it worked. You rehydrate dried chiles (choose your heat to taste) in hot water. After a half-hour or so, you remove the chiles and use the liquid as the base for caramel. I worried the chile flavors would burn and turn harsh in the high heat of a caramel, but it came out just fine. Then you drizzle the caramel over a post held parallel to the floor (you'll want newspaper underneath). Eventually, the caramel forms long stiff strands. That's the theory anyway. Mine clumped and arced, but Tom gave me some advice so that they'll come out better next time. With this, we served a Banyuls, one of my favorite fortified dessert wines.

We love the way our dinner parties allow us to delight our guests, and I love the cooing sounds of diners eating a meal gone right. Even when they're not all smart, attractive women. Not that I noticed that, of course.





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