Food Apology

Since I need to play catch up, I've come up with a couple of themes. The first is "great meals" and the second is "the influence of chefs."

Part of my problems with making my posts has been disappointment.

My CSA didn't deliver at all last week. Nor did they apologize for the problem or try to contact me in any way until I contacted them first.

Besides, I've been bonding with my new toy. *G*

Michel Guérard

The first chef I ever heard of was Michel Guérard.

Most people these days think of "Cuisine Minceur" as part of the whole push toward nouvelle cuisine back in the late 1970s.

Actually, it was spa cookery. Michel Guérard was ensconced at the spa at Evian les Bains. Many of his customers were there for their annual liver cleaning -- the French think all bad things originate in the liver -- but a significant number were there to lose weight.

He'd been a little tubby himself at one point. He didn't want to lose flavor, and he didn't want to lose texture.

These two elements were key for me. My father came up diabetic. It's why we were moved to Belgium instead of taking up our original assignment in Indonesia. I went from not cooking at all (I was at boarding school) back to cooking for a family of four, but sugar was banned as well as certain fats. I had to rethink recipes and look at new ones.

I don't think I've ever cooked out of the Cuisine Minceur cookbook. That may change soon. So many of his recipes called for homemade glace and demi-glace and as a teenager, I couldn't imagine cooking for the six to ten hours that would require. Now, I look at my cassoulet recipe and realize, I can do a demi-glace standing on my head. (Now that I think about it, the phrase should be standing on my hands. Yoga has gotten me to the point where I can do a supported handstand -- i.e. against a wall -- but my neck still isn't ready for a headstand.).

Even though I never used the recipes, I read them all. I know his use of citrus influenced me. Guérard gave me courage and a foundation to stand on.

Memorable Meals -- The Just Like Minnesota Edition

Many of you know the "it looks just like Minnesota" story. You can skip the next paragraph or two and get to the food, if you like.

( For the rest of you: )

After spending a day going on rides and just generally having fun at Tivoli, Sis and I changed in to dresses -- something Sis usually didn't do willingly, and sat down to dinner at Divan 2. It would have been nice to afford a three star Michelin restaurant, but Divan 2 had (still has, I believe) traditional smorrebrod. We wanted regional food. We wanted vegetables. We wanted to eat something other than a fucking hotdog.

They had asparagus soup on special that night, and we started with a cup of it. I'd expected a cream soup, but this just tasted of fresh young asparagus with a hint of dill and a dollop of creme fraiche (or possibly yogurt) on it. Sis licked every drop off her spoon and only the fact that we were well brought up young ladies kept us from licking the bowls clean.

My sister was beginning to show signs of the anemia that plagues her from time to time. Her choice was a roast beef smorrebrod. I chose salmon.

What Sis got was a slice of home baked white bread with a microscopically thin layer of fresh butter. It was then piled high with thin slices of rare roast beef. The waiter had asked Sis whether she preferred rare or well done and the meat was perfect. Sis was handed a grater and a horseradish. She was told if she grated from the edges, it would be mild and from the center would be hot.

My smorrebrod had a light wheat bread with a similarly thin smear of butter on it. The poached salmon was firm fleshed, cool but not cold. There were fresh mushrooms and even fresher mayonnaise garnishing the top. To one side, was a small dish filled with fresh chopped dill.

I can say without hesitation this was the best meal I've ever had.

There have been more expensive meals, meals with more elaborate preparations, meals with unusual flavors. But nothing compares to the tang of fresh asparagus soup and perfectly cooked salmon with fresh dill after a week of hotdogs.

Palate Cleansers

Writing up the "it looks just like Minnesota" story reminded me of one thing: the importance of variety.

It's rare these days to get a palate cleanser in the middle of your meal. It's also rare to have a voluntary or involuntary -- as in my Minnesota story -- periods of time when one has only a bland meal. Hospital patients may be the only ones to get the benefit these days.

But repetition and blandness serve a purpose, just like the champagne-basil sorbet between the fish and meat courses, it lets your palate awaken to a new sensation.

I've had weeks where my main meal has been oatmeal. I'm usually paying off a bill or saving money for something special. The experience has led to wonderful sensations when the bill has been paid.

Even something as simple as taking a half hour between your main meal and some fresh fruit for dessert can heighten the sensations.