Sweetness, Then Light

Sunday morning, Teacherman and I drove out of the city to have brunch with one of our friends, who, among other things, is a chef.  That is, I think he’s actually employed to do something with computers, but a few years ago he went to culinary school and has, as Teacherman would say, Mad Skillz. 

Not only did we go see him because we like his company (and that of his lovely wife, who I only just met), but because he will be the one helping me cook for my wedding in two months.  (Yes, that is correct: I will be making all of the food for my own wedding.  This is not as crazy as it sounds; after all, there will only be about 34 people there, and I will, as just mentioned, have the help of a professional). 

Our convivial brunch was a testing session for several of the dishes for the reception, including the wedding cake itself, along with a few extras, not part of the future wedding feast, to round out a weekend morning (which is to say, we’re all carnivores, so we threw some steak into the mix).  Teacherman and I knew that the coming meal would be large and protein-heavy, so our breakfast was very light, in preparation therefore.  (It was also the end of the week, and there was very little in the fridge with which to make said breakfast).

After a little contemplation of the paltry ingredients inside and the sultry weather outside, I took a half-finished bag of strawberries from the freezer, an almost-on-the-verge blood orange from the fridge (the frigidity of which was the only thing keeping it from plunging straight over the verge), and a bottle of simple syrup from the cupboard.  I dumped the strawberries into the food processor, zested the orange over the lot, then removed the rest of the peel and threw in the duskily maroon-colored sections. 

After blitzing the mixture for a minute to break down the orange membranes and pulverize the frozen fruit, I added a couple of glugs of the simple syrup and whizzed everything up again until smooth.  A food processor may not add much air, but frozen desserts made therein can be lovely, if one likes extreme density of flavor.  The texture of the sorbet was on a par with store-bought, but the depth of strawberry flavor was much greater.  I couldn’t say how much sweetener was added, but it was just enough to counter the slightly bitter aftertaste of the orange pith; the two opposites balanced each other well.  Since we were, as usual, running late, we snarfed down the sorbet, refreshing in the unexpected early-morning heat, and headed out the door.

Six and a half hours later we returned, stuffed beyond belief and toting a cake-keeper containing a half-eaten, delectable wedding cake prototype.  We didn’t really think that we’d ever eat food again, especially not after sharing the remaining cake with our upstairs-best-friends-and-their-visiting-relatives, but at around 8 pm we looked at each other (trying not to look at the desolate and crumb-covered cake plate) and knew that we needed at least a little something to last us until the next morning.

Once again, there was contemplation of the fridge and cupboards.  This time the fridge yielded up a bag of romaine hearts and a lime, and the depths of the cupboard a can of white beans.  The lettuce was chopped, the beans lightly drained, the lime juiced, and they were all tossed together with a little olive oil and dried oregano.   It sounds odd and undefinable, but the flavors worked surprisingly well together and the whole was very satisfying.  The crispness of the lettuce and the lightness of the lime revivified our palates and settled our too-full stomachs.  We certainly didn’t want to eat any more dinner, but we knew that we would eat again.

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Published in: on April 30, 2007 at 2:18 pm  Comments (1)  

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. Thanks for sharing this information. Really is pack with new knowledge. Keep them coming.


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