Wine Party!
Back in the day, when I had an office job and plenty of money to blow, my friends Juju, Sandy and I would throw together these giant parties. The first one was all Juju; she and her boyfriend hosted an orphan's Thanksgiving for all the out-of-towners who couldn't go back home. Even though I had family in town, I stopped by, and it was a great success. So over the next two years we hosted three more Thanksgivings (not the holiday, just what we called our parties), for between forty and sixty. Always, it was a great success, and the source of many fond memories.
After the last Thanksgiving fizzled (thanks, marketing!), I began planning a wine party. A slightly-over-the-top intimate affair, twelve people, six courses, six wines to pair. I never made the menu, but I even got as far as a reasonable budget, and solicited Juju. Unfortunately, neither of us had the money or time now that she was a big important adult with a job, and I was back to being a lowly college student and waitron.
But honey had the money, and after hearing me rhapsodize one too many times about my fantasy wine party, challenged me to do it, within budget. The catch? The guest list was now closer to 30 than 12.
Nonetheless, I rose to the challenge, we stayed within budget, and 27 of our closest friends came and got varying degrees of smashed with us. I consulted my manager with the catering experience on portions, but we still had about 4 pounds of london broil, a gallon bag of fried catfish, and a quart and a half of grated carrots (among other refugees) when we cleaned up the next morning.
Here, for posterity, is the menu, and the wine pairings:
McManis Viognier with Malaysian Curry Spring Rolls
Miguel Torres Santa Digna Rose with Catfish Mojo Tacos
Castle Rock Pinot Noir with Beef, Portobello, and Red Onion Lollipops
Gnarly Head Zinfandel with Lamb Quesadillas Spicy Tomato and Tzitziki Sauces
Banfi Brachetto d'Acqui Rosa Regale with Rasperry-Chocolate "Petit Fours"
The wines, simply put, were awesome. The wine director at Green's on Buford Highway is an incredible font of wisdom, and I recommend them to everybody. Everywhere. Also, I had help: A couple of Dans, a Mike, and the amazing Juju. And of course there were the homeowners, who let me take over and destroy their kitchen, and spend the whole night telling those who didn't know "No, it's not our house..."
Amazingly, I got offers to do another. Anyone with money is welcome to find me and convince me.
Friday, June 16, 2006
This One Time, at Restaurant Camp....Day Three
More prep at 10. I got a treatise on roasting bell peppers, and went through about a case. I used the Dangerous Leeks that I'd cut up (see day two) to make potato leek soup. I suppose that you could use a stick blender to puree, but Chef had me go after it with a wire whisk. The result: a sore arm and a full understanding of how vegetables' starch disintegrates in the prescence of wet heat and agitation. It was actualy smooth and creamy when I was done.
I also learned to make risotto, a task that I viewed with much fear. It could not have been easier: Alliums (garlic, onion, shallot, whatever) get sauteed in oil with the rice. Once the rice is opaque (not toasted) you add wine and stock, and stir till creamy. I've gotta make some at home soon, before all the nice spring vegetables go away.
Finally, there was the yellow tomato bisque. I learned another important lesson here: wear your chef's jacket. Even if you're roasting peppers and it's hot. Even if risotto isn't dangerous. Because if you don't put on your jacket when crossing the threshold, an hour or two later, you'll get told: "Some people will tell you that you can't add hot stock to hot roux. You can, but you have to whip it fast. Now go get a whisk." And then the stuff that cook-type people call "liquid napalm" will leap out of the pot and onto your arm, prompting a "Goddamnit!" loud enough to make your chef chuckle.
Over lunch, Richard offered to pay me if I worked Sunday night. Money? I was planning on walking away with burns and cuts, not currency. Obviously, I took it.
That night, I learned a couple of new sauces, including the "yummy", a salt-free sauce for artichokes. I also got a few minutes in behind the line, before we got busy.
Oh yes, and the Yorkshire puddings. These were by far the coolest thing I've done in a while. You make a wet batter, a cross between crepes and pancakes, with duck fat. Then you heat muffin tins with duck fat in a 500 degree oven. You fill the muffin cups as fast as you can, and pop them in the oven. You get these gorgeous brown muffin-things, that are way larger than they should be, and feel and act like a sponge. Awesome.
We got a shift drink that night, as we did more than 200 covers. When Scotty came to get me, I hadn't touched my wine, and was still in the middle of cleanup, so I got to go out with the restaurant crew. Everyone was very friendly; I'm used to big-ass corporate restaurants, and the camaraderie was refreshing and encouraging.
I don't know what to say about my last night at PLaE. I was a little exhausted, and it definitely showed. At this far date, I don't remember exactly what I did, but I seem to have done well.
When I got back home, I spent the next couple of weeks sulking and refusing to go to various classes. That means I liked it, right?
More prep at 10. I got a treatise on roasting bell peppers, and went through about a case. I used the Dangerous Leeks that I'd cut up (see day two) to make potato leek soup. I suppose that you could use a stick blender to puree, but Chef had me go after it with a wire whisk. The result: a sore arm and a full understanding of how vegetables' starch disintegrates in the prescence of wet heat and agitation. It was actualy smooth and creamy when I was done.
I also learned to make risotto, a task that I viewed with much fear. It could not have been easier: Alliums (garlic, onion, shallot, whatever) get sauteed in oil with the rice. Once the rice is opaque (not toasted) you add wine and stock, and stir till creamy. I've gotta make some at home soon, before all the nice spring vegetables go away.
Finally, there was the yellow tomato bisque. I learned another important lesson here: wear your chef's jacket. Even if you're roasting peppers and it's hot. Even if risotto isn't dangerous. Because if you don't put on your jacket when crossing the threshold, an hour or two later, you'll get told: "Some people will tell you that you can't add hot stock to hot roux. You can, but you have to whip it fast. Now go get a whisk." And then the stuff that cook-type people call "liquid napalm" will leap out of the pot and onto your arm, prompting a "Goddamnit!" loud enough to make your chef chuckle.
Over lunch, Richard offered to pay me if I worked Sunday night. Money? I was planning on walking away with burns and cuts, not currency. Obviously, I took it.
That night, I learned a couple of new sauces, including the "yummy", a salt-free sauce for artichokes. I also got a few minutes in behind the line, before we got busy.
Oh yes, and the Yorkshire puddings. These were by far the coolest thing I've done in a while. You make a wet batter, a cross between crepes and pancakes, with duck fat. Then you heat muffin tins with duck fat in a 500 degree oven. You fill the muffin cups as fast as you can, and pop them in the oven. You get these gorgeous brown muffin-things, that are way larger than they should be, and feel and act like a sponge. Awesome.
We got a shift drink that night, as we did more than 200 covers. When Scotty came to get me, I hadn't touched my wine, and was still in the middle of cleanup, so I got to go out with the restaurant crew. Everyone was very friendly; I'm used to big-ass corporate restaurants, and the camaraderie was refreshing and encouraging.
I don't know what to say about my last night at PLaE. I was a little exhausted, and it definitely showed. At this far date, I don't remember exactly what I did, but I seem to have done well.
When I got back home, I spent the next couple of weeks sulking and refusing to go to various classes. That means I liked it, right?
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