In Which I Visit Veganland

Readers of this blog will know that since I assumed daily responsibility for cooking actual dinners I have found myself in an off-and-on struggle to perk things up. With the kids having relatively limited repertoires, I've sometimes had a hard time thinking of things to cook that will be nutritious, tasty, acceptable on the Lucas Thumb Scale, and not too difficult or tedious to cook. It's a process.

At the same time, I've also been trying to get my own diet into a new place that helps me get more fit without forcing myself to go against my usual tastes and food interests. While Weight Watchers worked very well for me during the years after I'd given birth, I am emphatically not a Dieter. I've had good experiences in the Land of Low Carb (as a former employee of Atkins Nutritionals, I suppose that's a good thing) but this time when I tried to move back in that direction, I was feeling less inspired than usual.

One of my favorite food writers is Mark Bittman, whose "How to Cook Everything" books have been constant resources for me over the years. He has come to espouse a lower-animal product diet he sums up as "Vegan Before 6" or "VB6" -- eat vegan during the day until 6pm, and then incorporate whatever animal products you like for your last meal of the day. This seemed appealing to me in a way it never had before. Perhaps the flexitarian safety valve made me feel it was doable (plus Bittman's sensible recognition that sometimes you need to pass over the quinoa in favor of a bag of chips or a candy bar). I'm also living in a city that is very vegetarian-friendly, and where a majority of our friends are mostly vegetarian with the occasional pescatarian tendency. Plus, Vancouver is a city boasting of beautiful produce and access to global ingredients that make it easy to explore a zillion and one ways of cooking plant products.

I'd never actually looked at a vegan cookbook, so my friend Nicky kindly let me borrow a few of hers. I was immediately smitten with Isa Chandra Moskowitz of The Post Punk Kitchen. Her recipes are delicious, unfussy, smartly written, and infused with a New York-GenX spirit that feels right at home for me. So far everything I've made from her books Veganomicon and Vegan With a Vengeance has been a huge success.

So what is this bacon-loving, rare-steak-craving, sushi-addict eating? Well, avocados, a/k/a vegan lard, for one thing. While I could probably stuff a few whole ones down my gullet in a sitting, I'm trying to show restraint and eat them half at a time. My favorite way is laid on a slice of garlic-rubbed sourdough toast, and sprinkled with lemon juice and Maldon sea salt. Sometimes I will make a second slice of toast topped with my other new staple -- tahini. This is made even more fantastic by spreading a thin layer of Marmite underneath it, which adds a tang of salty yeastiness to the unctuousness of the sesame paste. This makes a fantastic lunch, and I'll add a little cherry tomato salad, green salad, or fruit salad to the plate to complete the meal. I've also tried avocado on a toasted bagel as a substitute for our usual lox and cream cheese on Sunday mornings, and that has been satisfying enough that I don't pine for the lox. I have even made a very satisfying vegan take on the BLAT by frying up thin slices of smoked tofu brushed with a little maple syrup and using them with the avocado (I didn't have any ripe tomato, but would add it if I had it) on toasted sourdough.

Lunch is served.

 I was somewhat terrified of vegan baking, and I haven't yet attempted a cake (so no final conclusions here) but I have discovered that at least with some things, eggs, milk, and butter are less necessary than I'd thought. I've made terrific buckwheat-blueberry pancakes using almond milk and applesauce in lieu of milk and eggs (plus vanilla and cinnamon) that distracted me even from the presence of bacon on the table during the last two Saturday pancake breakfasts. I made absolutely killer chocolate-chocolate chip-walnut cookies from Veganomicon that used almond milk, canola oil instead of butter, and ground flaxseed in place of eggs, and they're easily one of the quickest and most delectable cookies I've ever made.

The devil is obviously a vegan.

The real test was, of course, whether I could cook anything that the kids would be willing to eat. Tofu to the rescue! They are pretty good with tofu, and have eaten with gusto a vegan stir-fried noodles with plain and smoked tofu dish on several occasions. I cooked a tofu tikka masala, substituting coconut milk for cream and using tofu where my kids have previous had chicken. From Veganomicon I made a very easy and flavorful dish of lentils flavored with tamarind, and served it all with basmati rice. It went so well that nobody complained when I offered the leftovers for dinner the next night.

A surprise thumbs up on the Lucas Scale was achieved when I attempted "cheesy" vegan kale chips. Kale chips, as everyone knows, are complete crack, but they are totally irresistible when prepared with a paste of cashews, lemon, garlic, coconut oil, mustard, and that umami delivery system, nutritional yeast. My only regret is that I can't produce more than one bunch of kale's worth at a time, due to limited space in my oven.

So have I been West Coast brainwashed? When I tell you that I have also been RUNNING. Sometimes at 7am IN THE RAIN you will probably conclude that I have indeed. But I am really enjoying both the running and the new explorations in cooking, and I feel good. I still identify as an omnivore, and do not intend at this point to forego all kinds of eating experiences (animal and vegetable) when they present themselves, but I'm very happy to make daily visits to Veganland.

Family Dinner Continues Apace

Greetings Earthlings! I am pleased to report that my family has not yet starved to death under my care. In fact, I have hit on some dinners that have gotten the much-sought Lucas Two Thumbs Up rating.

The first thing that has happened is that Lucas started art classes at the amazing Arts Umbrella, which offers high-quality visual and performing arts instruction to children from preschool through high school. The school is located on Vancouver's famous Granville Island, which is packed full of art studios, galleries, restaurants, and the amazing Public Market, where I now spend a couple of hours every Friday busting our food budget for the week while Lucas takes his mixed media class. Even with the best of intentions, I can't help but return home with bags stuffed with endless varieties of delicious goodies -- lately I can't resist the pyramids of neatly stacked strawberries and blueberries, the multicolored bunches of kale, and the huge variety of grains, spices, and other nifty ingredients at the Grainry. And I never fail to stop by Oyama Sausage Co., whose massive selection of creative sausages made from local high quality meats has become the center of our Friday dinner. I can't even bring myself to look at their full selection of charcuterie, pate, and cheese, or I might never leave.

Sausages with herbed couscous, stewed zucchini, and fruit plate.

 

Yes, Friday night is Sausage Night. Each week, I select three or four varieties (this is hard! they have dozens and dozens, and the selections change daily) and as soon as I get home I pop them into the oven while I put away all the produce and other tasty bits, and put together some simple and quick side dishes (couscous is a favorite). I've started cutting up a little fruit plate for Lucas and Baby Gateau, so at least they get some plant matter into them.

This week we sampled Toulouse pork sausage (mild and perfect for kids), Chicken with Preserved Lemon (a little dry, but tasty), Elk with Huckleberry (gamey in a good way), and Pork with Prune (delicious, but deemed "too fruity" by the kids). Others we've tried have included Duck with Truffle, Smokey Bison (Lucas's favorite), Pork with Red Wine and Herbs (fantastic), and Japanese Chicken (kids raved).

Ham night.

Another gift that kept on giving was the procurement of a spiral-sliced ham from Costco when we ventured across the border to Bellingham, WA. They have most of the stuff we're used to getting at the Vancouver Costco, but some of our favorite American products can only be found if we drive down to Washington State. Fortunately, I now know where to go when I run out of the supply of A-1 Steak Sauce my mother brought me when I whined that what they sell under that label in Canada is a totally different product.

The ham, cooked with a simple maple glaze, served us for umpteen meals. The first night, I served it with mashed sweet potatoes and a green salad, but everyone clamored for "regular" potatoes, so I made that the next night too. The ham showed up in school lunch sandwiches, in cold cut platters at home, and finally its bone and last scraps of meat produced a phenomenal French Canadian Pea Soup with yellow split peas.

My bella chicken.

And my crowning achievement was the Julia Child-inspired roasting of a chicken. I took a midweek trip to Granville Island to obtain a haggis for our cousin's Robert Burns Day party, and while at the butcher purchased a huge chicken. The last time I had tried to roast a chicken was a complete disaster -- it would not cook through, and only later did I realized that both my meat thermometer and the temperature gauge on the oven were busted. I have remedied that with an oven thermometer and a new meat thermometer and all is well.

French chef-type roast chicken is not a set-it-and-forget-it project. You have to baste and turn that bastard every 10-15 minutes, but boy is it worth it. It came out succulent, with a well-seasoned, brown and crisp skin and gorgeous drippings for a gravy. I roasted some potatoes in a dish alongside it and served a bowl of my favorite flash-fried kale with lemon, and it was a truly fine meal. It was big enough to give us a second night of roast chicken, plus its carcass tipped the balance and allowed me to clear out my freezer stash of chicken bits and vegetable trimmings to make the best chicken stock I ever made, following Gabrielle Hamilton's instructions in the Prune cookbook. I'd added a few extra drumsticks to the pot, and the meat from those later went into a batch of chicken tacos, while about the stock is what made that pea soup so rich and delicious.

 

But the very best part of all about my weekly trips to Granville Island may not be the delectable things coming out of the kitchen. It's that I have a little extra time to myself. After all the shopping is done, I settle myself down in a cafe or, better yet if I'm not driving, a bar and treat myself to something nice. Last week, the lovely bartender at the Liberty Distillery made me their delicious take on an Old Fashioned -- white whiskey with orange gomme syrup, bitters, lemon, and star anise. It was lovely, and I quite relaxed as I sipped it, while admiring the ruby red strawberries and opalescent black kale spilling out of my bags around me. It was a perfect start to the weekend.

Tools of the Trade

I am about the farthest thing from an equipment geek, kitchen or otherwise. I like my tools to be decent quality and to perform their stated purpose well. I am also a fan of tools that can be used for many things -- for example, I use rimmed baking sheets for practically everything, and when I knit, I nearly always do it on circular needles. I just don't have the budget or storage space for a lot of highly specialized, high-end equipment, plus I tend to the skeptical when people start raving that only a certain brand of [whatever] can do the job.

Once in a while I do run into a gadget with a single use that I think is brilliant. Those metal lemon squeezers that are bright yellow (or green for limes). That avocado gadget that has a cutting blade on one end, a pit remover in the middle, and a slicer at the other end -- genius!

But I recently acquired two new pieces of equipment that have given me that "where have you been all my life?" giddiness. Here is credit where credit is due.

Silicone baking mats. Those rimmed baking sheets of mine get a serious workout. I do a lot of roasting and broiling in them, and I've had night after night of big sheets protruding from the sink as I try to soak the stuck-on crud off them. I've used rolls and rolls of parchment paper, which then takes up most of the space in the kitchen compost bin. Also, truth be told, for some reason, buttering cookie sheets is one of my least favorite kitchen tasks. Enter the silicone baking sheets. I did a big salmon filet with teriyaki sauce on one the other night, and the whole thing slid right off, skin and all. No scrubbing fish skin and burnt sugar off the pan for days. I just plop the sheet in the baking pan and that's all the prep I need to do. Looking forward to expanding my collection of these to fit all my pans.

Aeropress coffee maker. I know it's the era of the coffee geek, but though I love a good cup of strong, rich coffee (I tend to drink espresso, often with a little condensed milk stirred in), the last thing I have any interest in is delving into the terroir my beans were grown in, searching out the most perfect grind (or the most expensive, high-tech grinder to achieve it), or studying the ideal water temperature, pouring method, or filtration system. I've tried a number of methods -- basic drip coffeemaker (too big since I'm the only coffee drinker in the house), espresso maker (bulky and fiddly), Keurig (wasteful and too limited), French press (too muddy), and Chemex (charming to look at but hard to keep hot enough). Also, in the mornings, the kitchen tends to be in a bit of chaos, with three kids getting breakfast, school lunches being made, and usually whatever didn't fit into the dishwasher the night before still sitting there forlornly in the sink. Someone had mentioned an Aeropress in conversation, and a coffee geek I know chimed in and raved about it. I knew nothing about it, so I looked it up and was intrigued -- smooth and rich espresso using a small, inexpensive, easy-to-clean handheld device and hot water from the kettle. It was worth a shot.

It's amazing. The device is essentially a large syringe with a filter cap on one end that takes little circles of filter paper (they can be rinsed and reused, if you want). You put in a measure of coffee, pour hot water up to a line, stir briefly, and then press the syringe plunger down slowly over a waiting cup. You can drink it as espresso or add more hot water (or milk) as desired. Cleanup is ejecting the coffee and filter and rinsing the works under the running tap, the end. It's super quick and easy, and makes incredibly rich and smooth coffee out of even indifferent (and variously ground) beans.

I may be about to put the espresso maker into deep storage, which means I will achieve the Holy Grail of MORE COUNTERSPACE.

How I Won Family Dinner, or Two Thumbs Up

Lucas showing the whole hand.

I have previously mentioned the Lucas Dinner Scale, by which my opinionated middle son rates all meals on a thumbs up-thumbs down system, including all points in between. Two thumbs up is at the top of the scale, with a damning-with-faint-praise rating available of one thumb held at about a 20 degree angle to the floor. It's a tough crowd.

But I've been on a roll for the last week, earning repeated double thumbs. I decided to memorialize it, in case it never happens again.

All your leftovers are belong to me.

On Friday I did baked Salmon Teriyaki, with jasmine rice and edamame. Not as highly ranked on the Lucas Scale, but it's a favorite of Teen Gateau, who likes to flake the salmon and mix it with the rice. These guys never tolerated fish at all when we lived in New York, but now that we're in Vancouver they are becoming more open to it. The leftovers of this went into a very nice salad for my lunch -- greens, a honey-mustard-white balsamic dressing, and some sliced mushrooms I tossed in the dressing before adding to the plate.

Saturday was FONDUE NIGHT. Fondue is a huge family favorite, and I'd neglected to make it since we moved. (I also like to preserve its power to impress by not making it too often). We have a beautiful copper fondue pot on a wrought-iron stand that we bought after seeing similar ones at the wonderful (and apparently late lamented) Fonduementale in Montreal. I return again and again to the classic Swiss cheese fondue with Emmentaler, Appenzeller, and Gruyere with white wine and a splash of Kirschwasser. Since we left all our booze behind when we moved, I didn't feel like dropping 25 bucks on a bottle of Kirschwasser to use a couple times a year, so I successfully substituted some of the brandy my dried cherries have been soaking in for about a month. It added a touch darker color to the final product, but not noticeable to anyone who might have cared, and I think the dish is nicer with that touch of sweetness than without it.

I have a book full of fondue recipes -- Roquefort! Cheddar and Beer! -- but the classic is so mouthwateringly good that I never switch it up. Occasionally, we'll do a meat fondue with hot broth or oil and a selection of sauces and aiolis to dip the food into. The Parmesan-Basil Aioli I served on Christmas Eve would be perfect for this, with chicken or beef, and the kids love a Maple-Soy Glaze with pork. Anyway, after every last bit of cheese was scraped up, every bread cube and slice of pear and green apple was gone, we moved on to a simple chocolate fondue with strawberries, apples, dried apricots, and chunks of pound cake. It's amazing we still had room, but that managed to disappear too.

On Sunday, while the rest of the family was out having a swimming test to sign up for lessons, I cast around the kitchen for something to cook. I had defrosted boneless chicken thighs with the notion in mind to make Chicken Malai Kebabs (a/k/a Chicken Kebab the Builder) but when I went to set up the marinade I discovered that the only plain yogurt in the house was at the back of the fridge and practically unrecognizable as a food product. I shelved that idea for later in the week (in fact, Tiny Fuzzy indignantly asked me tonight why I had not made them yet. People.) What I did have, though, were sufficient ingredients to make a simplified Chicken Mole, with tomato, dark chocolate, cinnamon, clove, onion, garlic, and cayenne. We had that with rice, and got something hovering around one and a half thumbs on the Lucas Dinner Scale. There was enough left, and so much sauce, that for Monday night I simply popped the leftovers in their dutch oven back on the stove and added kidney beans and corn kernels to create a Chicken Mole Stew. The flavors had a chance to develop overnight, and my household full of discerning palates pointed out that next time it could use a little less cinnamon. Noted.

Hello, Joe.

Somehow on Tuesday I managed to get a hankering for Sloppy Joes, which I've made maybe once in my life. My kids like burgers, they like spaghetti and meat sauce, they like sweet and sour meatballs, so I figured this would work. I got some whole wheat buns from the bakery, made a nice thick tangy sauce for the organic ground beef I always have in the freezer from Costco, and served it with salted edamame. Cheers around the table and double thumbs. The meal was a hit, and even better, I had played the "let's bake something!" card when the two younger boys were having simultaneous afternoon hissy fits, and we had a pan of freshly-baked Blondies for dessert. No nuts allowed by the Picky Ones, but somehow we survived. Even easier to make than chocolate chip cookies, and there is something about them I like even better. (One enduring mystery of life here in Canada, though, is why we can get Nestle Qwik but not Tollhouse Morsels, and Hershey's Chip-Its but not Hershey's Syrup.)

Blondies have more fun.

And then tonight we again had major success. For American Thanksgiving, my butcher had made me a very nice rolled and tied boneless turkey breast that they had brined and gave me to carry home in a plastic bag with liquid, like a goldfish at the fair. It was so simple to prepare and so delicious that I decided to put it into the repertoire. All the butcher requires is a little advance notice, so I stopped by yesterday and asked them to put one aside for me. Today I simply laid it on a rack inside a rimmed baking sheet and seasoned it lightly with olive oil, salt and pepper, marjoram, and sage. I put some halved baby potatoes, tossed in olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary into a baking pan and cooked at the same time, and served it all with some steamed stringbeans (also dressed in olive oil, salt, and pepper) and a little gravy I made out of the pan juices, a bit of chicken broth, and a drop of soy sauce, bound with a little cornstarch. Every morsel was gobbled up, and the thumbs were high in the air. I couldn't have pulled this off when I was still working full time in an office with a commute, but since I'm home now to put things in the oven before five (if the meal gets delayed past about 6, the witching hour starts to be upon us), this is a really nice weeknight dinner that feels more special than it really is.

I'm fairly assured that Chicken Kebab the Builder tomorrow will keep the streak alive (I'm going to try marinating cauliflower florets in the same yogurt marinade and roast them alongside, in part of my effort to restore my lower carb routine -- hopefully my waistbands will thank me). However, I'm sure this will be followed by a month of missing the mark entirely. Stay tuned.

Hello 2015!

Now that the holiday/birthday frenzy has subsided, I have a few minutes in my day to catch up on necessaries like doing the laundry and cleaning the kitchen (I still haven't gotten up the nerve to clean out the fridge, but given that we moved in August, at least the horrors can only be in the five month old range). And I do want to post about the fantastic meal we enjoyed on New Year's Eve with our friends Sam and Vic, Sam's brother, and his wife.

Like most decrepit seasoned people I know, Mr. Gateau and I are not much into partying hard on New Year's Eve. We like to do something festive, but it tends to center on a cozy meal with friends and/or family. Many years we have had friends with kids come over and had a fondue extravaganza, or even just curled up with some good old movies and consumed fondue and a lot of wine on our own. One of our favorites was the big night of December 31, 1999, when everyone was anticipating some end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it spectacular. We opted to join our friends Doug and Mary in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn (then still a mostly non-gentrified neighborhood that had one little row of upscalish restaurants) at a little bistro. The place was so timeless, we could have been in any city at any time in the last 75 years. At midnight we went outside just to look at the new millennium sky and confirm that the lights hadn't gone out.

This year, we came close to the same wonderful atmosphere, minus the looming catastrophe. We had a late dinner at one of our favorite places, The Oakwood Bistro, which was offering a special (and well-priced) four course menu. The six of us sat at one end of a big communal table that was divided from the party at the other end by a big old KitchenAid mixer filled with dried flowers. The meal was served with dishes for two placed before each pair sitting opposite each other, so I shared with Sam. She and I began with all good intentions to photograph each beautiful course, but the more fun we had the less we remembered to whip out our phones, which I can't say is a bad thing.

Better than the movies.

The meal began with glasses of sparkling wine and a "snack" of big bowls of parmesan truffle popcorn. You haven't had umami until you've had this. Super buttery, we were soon just throwing handfuls of the stuff down our throats, greasy hands be damned. We could probably have done with a smaller serving, but it set the tone for great, fun eating. It was perfect with the dry sparkling wine, and just as wonderful with a round of cocktails. I had a "Buffalo Eat Grapes" made with buffalo trace bourbon, pinot noir syrup, lemon, and bitters. It tasted like a very sophisticated sangria and was a worthy alternative to my favorite drink The Oakwood offers on the summer menu, a take on the Dark & Stormy made with smoked rum and smoked lime.

Three, three, three amuses in one.

Next up was a course called the "Amuse bouche" but went beyond the usual small bite by offering a variety of three amazingly flavorful and inventive hors d'oeuvres. From left, we had a celeriac crisp with foie gras parfait and cranberry powder (this place does a lot with powders and gelees, which could seem a little fussy but they really pack a lot of flavor), a French macaron made of a beet meringue with apple puree and paillot goat cheese, a brilliant savory take on a classic dessert, and a potato nest with truffle sunchoke puree and nettle crumb.

The next course was equally beautiful but we were so intent on eating it that we forgot to photograph it. We were presented with a deep bowl filled with pan-seared scallops in a miso-garlic mushroom broth with roasted king oyster mushroom, black kale dusted cremini crudite, shaved cured egg yolk, hazlenut oil, chicken skin crumble, and nasturtium. The flavors in this dish were fantastic, all that mushroomy, miso umami but a delicacy that was just right for the scallops, punctuated with bits of salty, crunchy, peppery accents.

Bread alone.

Next we received a bread course, which we managed to snap for some reason. I'm not sure I needed to fill up on bread at this point, but the fresh rolls were sprinkled with caraway seeds and salt and served with a deep red smoked paprika butter. So I ate it.

Onto the main course! We all groaned that more food was coming, but I noticed we all ate every bit of it. This was a perfectly prepared grilled rib eye with smoked bone barrow and beet juice, served with thinly shaved winter root vegetables sauteed with cultured tarragon butter, the creamiest possible pomme mousseline, and red amaranth. The beef and its juices were so earthy, while the vegetables had that wonderful summery tarragon taste and the potatoes were utterly decadent. 

Just a little sweet.

And then -- dessert! This we managed to snap before it was too late, and every crumb was gone. This was a take on the Almond Joy bar, a coconut crusted chocolate mousse with raspberry gel, crunchy milk meringue, brown butter ice cream, and lemon balm. I don't even love coconut and chocolate, and I was scraping this off my plate. The brown butter ice cream is something I would drive all day to get, the raspberry gel was sunshine in the mouth, and the milk meringue added an amazing creamy crunch.

 

A very thoughtful gift.

Before we rolled out the door to drink more Prosecco and eat chocolates while we watched the ball drop with Sam and Vic's folks at home, the restaurant manager thanked us for joining them for the evening and presented us with BREAKFAST! Each couple was given a loaf of cheese bread wrapped in a towel and a brown paper box containing little quince and meringue tarts and two farm eggs. This was such a thoughtful gesture, and we were quite amused in the morning when Baby Gateau climbed into our bed and excitedly told us that there was FOOD! in the dining room, including eggs and "apple pies" which he knew were good because he had stuck his fingers into them to make sure. Oh well, from what I could glean, they were quite delicious, and I very much enjoyed the eggs fried in butter and topped with sauteed shallots and a little red wine vinegar.

It was about as perfect as a New Year's Eve gets, and I hope we can make a tradition out of it.

Live Long and Prosper, Kid

The Ensign (Event Coordination) and Captain in the Captain's Private Dining Room, Starship Enterprise

Today I am the mother of a teenage boy, an amazing milestone in parenting life and the culmination of this year's exhausting trip through Hanukkah, Christmas, New Year's Eve, and two birthdays. I'm looking forward to a few months of simple home cooking after the whirlwind of parties.

Teen Gateau (as he will henceforth be known, at least for the next 7 years) became a Star Trek fanatic sometime during the last year. This was all my husband's fault doing after introducing the lad to the original series via Netflix. The kid has now devoured every piece of Star Trek media he can get his hands on, and I am reminded of his first love, trains, in the way he can make everything about his fixation. I seem to be immune to Star Trek, though most of my friends adore it, but as with the incessant train talk, it's a mother's joy to participate in whatever her kids love. Or something.

It seemed only right and proper, then, to offer him a Star Trek dinner to celebrate his birthday. We researched menu options, and were grateful for the indispensable Tumblr, Food Replicator, which provided clear recipes and inspiration.

Commemorative Menu

At the appointed hour, I dressed in my most Star Trek-like garb (we went with businesslike crew member, circa TNG, instead of 60s Space Babe) and began to welcome the Captain's friends to a private dinner aboard the Starship Enterprise. The decor was minimalist, with small Starfleet emblems placed on the napkin rings.

Food Synthesizer Cubes

Guests were ushered into the reception area, where they were offered Food Synthesizer Cubes (lime Jello jigglers) with their choice of Klingon Bloodwine (Cran-Grape juice with a little orange concentrate to bloody it up) or Romulan Ale (Jones Mixed Berry soda). This particular delegation put away quite a lot of Romulan Ale over the course of the party.
 

 

 

 

 

 

Bloodwine and Romulan Ale

Dinner was served in the Captain's private dining room. A first course of Vulcan Plomeek Broth (beet and carrot broth with smoked paprika and cider vinegar) went over better than I'd thought it would, given the audience of 12 year-old boys. I was called upon to serve seconds, and have had a request to make it again sometime.

Steaming Plomeek Broth

Following the broth, the main dishes were served: Bajoran Larish Pie (beef and vegetable pie with rosemary and thyme) and the most famous Klingon dish of all, Gagh, a revolting concotion featuring live worms. (Since gagh worms are out of season, I was forced to substitute udon boiled in food coloring to make it an unappetizing gray with a chunky mushroom marinara).

Larish Pie

Gagh, Klingon delicacy

For dessert, the Captain was presented with an Earthly delight -- a chocolate layer cake, custom decorated by his father. We had insufficient candles to represent his venerable age, but he was OK with that.

After the celebration, the Captain and his guests retired to the screening room, for a presentation of Star Trek: Nemesis. More Romulan Ale was on offer along with, of course, Jean-Luc Picard's favorite perfect cup of Earl Grey tea. A dish of Gree Worms disappeared as if, well, three 12 year old boys were watching a movie and eating candy.

Gree Worms

And that was that. The Ensign snuck into the kitchen to replace her boots with fuzzy slippers and start mixing up dough for the Captain's requested cinnamon buns for his breakfast banquet, and at one point removed a small alien life-form with the appearance of a four year-old Earthling from his older brother's party.

It appears that a good time was had by all.

The Captain with his visiting delegation of dignitaries from across the Federation

Good Tidings

Holiday eating season has gotten off to an excellent start, with no end in sight.

Hanukkah kicked off with our annual tradition of forgoing gifts one night in favor of bringing in a big tray of doughnuts (not homemade sufganiyot, but maybe someday I'll work up to it) and allowing them to be eaten before dinner. I also received a very thoughtful gift from my mother-in-law of a glittery menorah with a good-size sample bag of fancy tea for each night.

Friends hosted a lovely holiday cocktail party on Saturday night. While I avoided the bottle of bubble gum-flavored vodka that was sitting on the sideboard like the plague it surely is, I did drink my share of Bourbon Maple Sours, made even more aromatic and seasonal with a sprig of rosemary. They put out a lovely spread of cheeses, cured meats, smoked salmon, and vegetables with dip, and made hosting an elegant and festive party look incredibly easy.

The holiday baking resumed with the making of stained glass cookies (pictured above). Here is a pro tip: when living in a damp climate, such as, for example, Vancouver, do not crush the Life Savers and then leave them in bowls overnight on the counter. The candy will do its damnedest to re-form and you will have to chop away at it with sharp implements and a wooden spoon while worrying that the glass bowls are going to shatter in your hands. You're welcome.

Last night Mr. Gateau and I were treated to a spectacular dinner by his father and stepmother in honor of the tremendous work all three of them have been doing on their software startup. I was very fortunate to be able to go along for the ride.

We ate at La Quercia, a tiny, cozy restaurant a few blocks from our house that has gotten tremendous reviews, and for good reason. It's an Italian restaurant that uses very carefully chosen ingredients and follows slow-cooking traditions, and every single thing we tasted was spectacular. The restaurant does not have printed menus, because the offerings change so frequently, and they offer either a la carte options or the chance to try a tasting menu of 7, 9, or 11 courses created for the table's specific preferences. With half of our table pescatarians, we were all happy to go with vegetable and fish dishes. At the suggestion of the host, we decided to opt for 7 courses, but when I insist that Mr. Gateau take me back for our anniversary, I think we'll try 9 or 11 and add in some of the meat dishes -- there was a roast lamb that looked out of this world.

We started with cocktails (a perfect Negroni for me) and a first course of meltingly soft burrata on buttered toast with a scattering of sundried tomatoes, pickled shaved baby artichoke hearts, and pickled chanterelles. I fully enjoyed trying each mouthful with a different topping.

Second course was a warm egg custard surrounded with a layer of the thinnest eggplant and served with marinated roasted red peppers and croutons. The warm custard, soft eggplant, and the cool sharpness of the peppers played brilliantly together.

For our third course, we were served the Insalate Con Bagna Cauda, which was shaved fennel and endive, wedges of carrot and roasted beets, all coated in a garlic and anchovy dressing. It was pungent and crunchy.

Next came a risotto simply prepared with an Italian blue cheese and topped with a red wine reduction. It looked so simple but the flavors were rich and sharp. I could have gobbled a huge plate of it, so it's probably just as well we were sharing.

Our pasta course was a delicious linguine dressed in tomato and chili with chunks of branzino. Very satisfying and flavorful.

For the main plate, we were presented with grilled steelhead salmon, served with a warm salad of paper-thin zucchini and strips of roasted pepper over a bed of lentils. Grilled lemons were arranged on the plate. It was a great dish -- meaty fish, bright flavors, and I don't think I've ever enjoyed zucchini this much.

Dessert was a platter of three items -- almond tart with almond ice cream, chocolate panna cotta with apricots, and chocolate chestnut cake with Creme Chantilly. The almond tart had good flavor, but a somewhat mealy texture. The chocolate panna cotta tasted like the skin on chocolate pudding in the best possible way, and the chocolate chestnut cake was so good that Mr. Gateau is hoping to replicate it for Christmas with our stash of chestnut flour.

The wine flowed and the atmosphere was great, as was the company. Can't wait to return.

Stay tuned for the Christmas Eve extravaganza to come. We are hosting Mr. Gateau's family, and expect 21 people for a traditional sit-down dinner. What could possibly go wrong?