While many were out last Sunday fulfilling Christmas shopping duties, my friend Kristina invited me to join her and her husband for a traditional Swedish Julfest service at Seattle's First Covenant Church. Never having been to a Julfest celebration despite a strong strain of Swedish running through my blood, I jumped at the chance.
It turns out that 2008 is the 50th anniversary of the Julfest at First Covenant. From the balcony of the traditional pastel and gold painted sanctuary, I could see bright spots of red amid the congregation, as many came dressed in one of Sweden's most popular traditional colors (and if anyone has wondered why I love red in home decor so much, now you know it's in my blood). For this special occasion a choir of beautiful young Swedes had even traveled nearly halfway across the globe to join the celebration. Their clear voices filled the church with the lilting music of Swedish Christmas carols.
A cross between a concert, church service, and Santa Lucia celebration, the service was filled with music, sung almost entirely in Swedish, along with lessons read from a Swedish Bible. My tongue stumbled over the words of my ancestors as I attempted to recite the Lord's Prayer and join in on the congregational hymns. Thankfully, translations were provided in the bulletin, and a few of the words, with their similarities to German, didn't appear completely unfamiliar. Also thankfully, the homily and announcements were in English.
The children's choir sang about pepparkakor as three little girls dressed as the titular gingerbread cookies, danced in a circle. Another of the children's songs told of the mysterious, tiny Tomte who come at night to eat the Christmas leftovers, as the smallest of the boys made his way throughout the congregation in a long grey beard and red cap, carrying his lantern.
The highlight was, of course, the Santa Lucia procession. With only candlelight to show the way, the Lucia bride serenely made her way to the front of the altar, her crown of five lighted candles tied firmly in place with a wide chinstrap. One by one, the Lucia attendants made their way to join her, also dressed in red-sashed white robes, but without the crown of candles. Finally the star boys came to the front, although the pressure of standing still was apparently too much for one of them, who soon abandoned his post and ran down the aisle as the young women sweetly sang "Santa Lucia" to an enraptured audience.
Once the service ended, the crowd of hundreds squeezed into the tiny narthex, packing around tables offering Christmas cookies and buttered bread or rye krisp with cheese. I grabbed a rye krisp on my way out, reminded of the late dinners of rye crackers and cheese my family sometimes has around Christmastime. It's good to see these traditions live on, and to feel, maybe just a little, what my great-great grandparents may have felt themselves each year at Julfest.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
And the Winner Is...
I'm sure you've all been eagerly anticipating the follow-up to my chili experimentation. The suspense is killing you, no doubt. So, please excuse me as I momentarily brush modesty aside to toot my own horn and say... I did it! Jerk chicken chili was the surprise winner, capturing the title of Tastiest Chili for the Fifth Annual Shimoji Chili Cook-Off, ousting the former champion (who had won for at a least a couple years running, and still won Saturday's Hottest Chili prize). I am now the proud owner of a beautiful poppy red Le Creuset stockpot, the prize for the winning chili. Thanks, Tony and Heather!
Fourteen chilis made it to the competition (plus a fifteenth that missed the voting), and they were really all quite good; I honestly did not expect to win (although - is this bad? - I ended up voting for my own chili, too, but only because at the end of the day it really was my favorite one).
So, without further ado, here is my recipe:
Ruth Ann's Jerk Chicken Chili (yeah, I'm not bragging or anything)
for the jerk seasoning paste:
1 T allspice berries
1/2 t grated nutmeg
6 large cloves garlic, chopped
2" piece chopped ginger
4 large green onions, thinly sliced
2 habanero peppers, minced
2 T brown sugar
2 t dried thyme or 1 T fresh thyme
salt to taste
for the chili:
approx. 3 lbs boneless skinless chicken thighs, excess fat removed
cooking oil as needed
1 medium/large onion, diced
4 large cloves garlic, minced
2 T minced or grated ginger
2 28 oz cans chopped tomatoes (I used San Marzano from Italy - believe it or not, this can make a difference)
1/4 packed brown sugar
~1 C chicken broth
1/4-1/2 C dark rum
3 or 4 14 oz cans black beans
1 14 oz can coconut milk
generous pinch nutmeg
salt to taste
To make the jerk seasoning paste, crush the allspice berries with the nutmeg in a large mortar and pestle. Add the chopped garlic, ginger, green onions, habanero peppers, brown sugar, thyme, and salt one at a time, mashing the paste with the pestle after each addition. You will probably have at least a couple of table spoons of leftover paste after following this recipe.*
Mix the chicken with two to three tablespoons of the jerk paste overnight in a larger covered bowl.
To make the chili, saute the shopped onions, garlic, and ginger on low heat for about 15 minutes until soft. Add two to three tablespoons of the jerk paste and saute for another five or ten minutes. Add the cans of crushed tomatoes, brown sugar, and a half cup of chicken broth and simmer gently for about an hour, stirring frequently, until the tomatoes have completely broken down. You may choose to add more chicken broth and cook the sauce down further if you like.
Meanwhile, saute the marinated chicken thighs until barely cooked through, then remove them to a platter. Deglaze the pan with the rum and a quarter cup of chicken broth, and simmer until reduced by half. Pour the reduced liquid into the tomato sauce, being sure to scrape in the browned chicken bits from the pan. Add the black beans to the pot with the sauce and continue to simmer.
When cool enough to handle, tear the chicken into chunks. Add it to the tomato and bean mixture along with the can of coconut milk. Simmer until somewhat thickened and heated all the way through. Add salt to taste. Add up to a quarter cup more rum to add depth of flavor, and a good pinch of nutmeg.
*For people who like their chili hot, give them an extra spoonful of paste. Habaneros may be small, but they are HOT. Be very careful when cutting them or touching the inner part of the pepper. In general, it's best to handle them as little as possible, and DO NOT touch any part of your face before washing your hands thoroughly. This paste, on its own, is very hot, but this recipe will make only a moderately spicy chili, nothing that would be too hot for most.
Note: When I made this chili, I made no measurements, so the only measurements listed that are absolutely accurate are the canned items, since they were already measured for me. As always, you should adjust things to your own taste and available ingredients.
Also, chili tastes best when made a day or two ahead of time. It will also thicken over time, so don't worry if it seems a little bit thin when you first make it.
Finally, while this recipe is one that I (to the best of my knowledge) uniquely created, I did get the ingredient list for the jerk seasoning paste from an online website. Unfortunately, I don't recall where I found it, I did alter it slightly, and the mortar and pestle is also my own way of doing it - but I highly recommend a mortar and pestle for this task!
Fourteen chilis made it to the competition (plus a fifteenth that missed the voting), and they were really all quite good; I honestly did not expect to win (although - is this bad? - I ended up voting for my own chili, too, but only because at the end of the day it really was my favorite one).
So, without further ado, here is my recipe:
Ruth Ann's Jerk Chicken Chili (yeah, I'm not bragging or anything)
for the jerk seasoning paste:
1 T allspice berries
1/2 t grated nutmeg
6 large cloves garlic, chopped
2" piece chopped ginger
4 large green onions, thinly sliced
2 habanero peppers, minced
2 T brown sugar
2 t dried thyme or 1 T fresh thyme
salt to taste
for the chili:
approx. 3 lbs boneless skinless chicken thighs, excess fat removed
cooking oil as needed
1 medium/large onion, diced
4 large cloves garlic, minced
2 T minced or grated ginger
2 28 oz cans chopped tomatoes (I used San Marzano from Italy - believe it or not, this can make a difference)
1/4 packed brown sugar
~1 C chicken broth
1/4-1/2 C dark rum
3 or 4 14 oz cans black beans
1 14 oz can coconut milk
generous pinch nutmeg
salt to taste
To make the jerk seasoning paste, crush the allspice berries with the nutmeg in a large mortar and pestle. Add the chopped garlic, ginger, green onions, habanero peppers, brown sugar, thyme, and salt one at a time, mashing the paste with the pestle after each addition. You will probably have at least a couple of table spoons of leftover paste after following this recipe.*
Mix the chicken with two to three tablespoons of the jerk paste overnight in a larger covered bowl.
To make the chili, saute the shopped onions, garlic, and ginger on low heat for about 15 minutes until soft. Add two to three tablespoons of the jerk paste and saute for another five or ten minutes. Add the cans of crushed tomatoes, brown sugar, and a half cup of chicken broth and simmer gently for about an hour, stirring frequently, until the tomatoes have completely broken down. You may choose to add more chicken broth and cook the sauce down further if you like.
Meanwhile, saute the marinated chicken thighs until barely cooked through, then remove them to a platter. Deglaze the pan with the rum and a quarter cup of chicken broth, and simmer until reduced by half. Pour the reduced liquid into the tomato sauce, being sure to scrape in the browned chicken bits from the pan. Add the black beans to the pot with the sauce and continue to simmer.
When cool enough to handle, tear the chicken into chunks. Add it to the tomato and bean mixture along with the can of coconut milk. Simmer until somewhat thickened and heated all the way through. Add salt to taste. Add up to a quarter cup more rum to add depth of flavor, and a good pinch of nutmeg.
*For people who like their chili hot, give them an extra spoonful of paste. Habaneros may be small, but they are HOT. Be very careful when cutting them or touching the inner part of the pepper. In general, it's best to handle them as little as possible, and DO NOT touch any part of your face before washing your hands thoroughly. This paste, on its own, is very hot, but this recipe will make only a moderately spicy chili, nothing that would be too hot for most.
Note: When I made this chili, I made no measurements, so the only measurements listed that are absolutely accurate are the canned items, since they were already measured for me. As always, you should adjust things to your own taste and available ingredients.
Also, chili tastes best when made a day or two ahead of time. It will also thicken over time, so don't worry if it seems a little bit thin when you first make it.
Finally, while this recipe is one that I (to the best of my knowledge) uniquely created, I did get the ingredient list for the jerk seasoning paste from an online website. Unfortunately, I don't recall where I found it, I did alter it slightly, and the mortar and pestle is also my own way of doing it - but I highly recommend a mortar and pestle for this task!
Celebrating Monday
The past weekend was a whirlwind of events - I'll get more into it later - and now, late Monday night, I feel that the weekend has finally come to a close. Each year at Europe Through the Back Door the individual departments have their own small Christmas parties, and the Tour Department is no exception.
Tonight, the eight of us headed out to Arnie's on the Edmonds waterfront, sticking pretty close to home this year. (A couple of years ago we drove through a windstorm to get to Palisades in Magnolia, during which Tara and I saw a stop sign uprooted and blown across Aurora Avenue, and Lisa and Heidi got locked out of Lisa's house where they had stopped before heading to the restaurant, leading them to break down her front door. Comparatively, tonight's event was pretty mundane.)
After three and a half hours of food, wine, conversation, and exchanging gifts, I'm still finding it a bit hard to wind down.Of course, coming home to a spectacularly dirty kitchen is something of a wake-up call. But for the moment I'd rather think the about the laughter (and even a few tears, although thankfully not for any tragic reasons) and bask in the afterglow of what was, perhaps, just a little bit too much to eat - good thing I don't do this every night!
Tomorrow it will be back to the daily grind, but at least Keith got Tara some new 80s music in the gift exchange, and I'm sure the addition to our work soundtrack will keep us going strong.
Tonight, the eight of us headed out to Arnie's on the Edmonds waterfront, sticking pretty close to home this year. (A couple of years ago we drove through a windstorm to get to Palisades in Magnolia, during which Tara and I saw a stop sign uprooted and blown across Aurora Avenue, and Lisa and Heidi got locked out of Lisa's house where they had stopped before heading to the restaurant, leading them to break down her front door. Comparatively, tonight's event was pretty mundane.)
After three and a half hours of food, wine, conversation, and exchanging gifts, I'm still finding it a bit hard to wind down.Of course, coming home to a spectacularly dirty kitchen is something of a wake-up call. But for the moment I'd rather think the about the laughter (and even a few tears, although thankfully not for any tragic reasons) and bask in the afterglow of what was, perhaps, just a little bit too much to eat - good thing I don't do this every night!
Tomorrow it will be back to the daily grind, but at least Keith got Tara some new 80s music in the gift exchange, and I'm sure the addition to our work soundtrack will keep us going strong.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
A Night at the Nutcracker
If there is a Seattle Christmas tradition that is more beloved than the Pacific Northwest Ballet's annual production of the Nutcracker, I'm not sure what it might be. Sure, some may look forward to the lighting of the tree at Westlake following Thanksgiving, but that is a more casual affair, while the Nutcracker is a true "event". And there are those who go to the Nutcracker almost every year, perhaps to see their children or friends' children join the company on stage in a real professional production, or because of the enduring charm of the Maurice Sendak-disigned sets, the fairy-tale costumes, or Tchaikovsky's inspiring music (although Tchaikovsky himself would take issue with that last one - he felt that the Nutcracker was possibly his worst composition, and was terribly disappointed by it).
Years ago, Michael and I saw PNB's Nutcracker for the first time. We had splurged on second tier box seats, and I was almost as excited as one of the six-year-old girls who flock to the Christmas ballet dressed in their best holiday party dresses and clutching a favorite doll or stuffed animal. And it truly was magical; the Christmas tree grew to the size of a monster, snowflakes drifted down from above as snowflake ballerinas danced below, and dolphins jumped through the waves as Clara and the prince sailed off to his exotic kingdom where we would all be feted by dancers ranging from peacocks to a playful, typically Sendakian monster.
This year was our first back, as we joined a group of more than 40 people from our church in the upper balcony. Sure, the view wasn't as good, but the magic was still there. To be sure, a couple of the teenage boys who had come looked less than thrilled at the prospect, but hopefully even they enjoyed it, just a little bit.
Years ago, Michael and I saw PNB's Nutcracker for the first time. We had splurged on second tier box seats, and I was almost as excited as one of the six-year-old girls who flock to the Christmas ballet dressed in their best holiday party dresses and clutching a favorite doll or stuffed animal. And it truly was magical; the Christmas tree grew to the size of a monster, snowflakes drifted down from above as snowflake ballerinas danced below, and dolphins jumped through the waves as Clara and the prince sailed off to his exotic kingdom where we would all be feted by dancers ranging from peacocks to a playful, typically Sendakian monster.
This year was our first back, as we joined a group of more than 40 people from our church in the upper balcony. Sure, the view wasn't as good, but the magic was still there. To be sure, a couple of the teenage boys who had come looked less than thrilled at the prospect, but hopefully even they enjoyed it, just a little bit.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Christmas Time Is Here
Tonight I came home to find two packages waiting for me. Ah, Christmas! Never mind the fact that I had been expecting these packages and had even ordered them for myself (not so much in the spirit of giving, I know), I still felt a little like a kid on Christmas morning.
This boost of holiday cheer was doubtless due in part to the fact that the contents of the packages were undeniably Christmas-themed. From the Crate & Barrel outlet I received a myriad of Scandinavian straw ornaments, and Amazon had sent several Christmas CDs, including soundtracks to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and A Charlie Brown Christmas, and Handel's Messiah. There was one other goody, but since that will be a Christmas surprise for my husband, I'll not mention it on the off chance he actually reads this post.
As a kid, like many of my generation, December was the month when I could look forward to weekly, sometimes nightly, Christmas "specials" on the TV. I'd eagerly anticipate the annual viewing of Rudolph, Frosty, Charlie Brown, and others. Rudolph was a particular favorite, and even as an adult the clumsy stop-motion animation and lo-fi sound quality hold an irresistable charm. I particularly empathized with the inhabitants of the Island of Misfit Toys. "I'll take you home, spotted elephant!" I'd silently plead. Who wouldn't love an elephant with polka dots?
As I got older I appreciated the melancholy and simple beauty of A Charlie Brown Christmas more and more, and the sound track is well-loved for good reason. And as often as we listen to some of these songs at my job this time of year, Vince Guaraldi's music always puts a smile on my face. Listening to the original version tonight was the perfect accompaniment while I busied myself in the kitchen.
It's good to know that after all these years, Christmas can still bring out the kid in us.
This boost of holiday cheer was doubtless due in part to the fact that the contents of the packages were undeniably Christmas-themed. From the Crate & Barrel outlet I received a myriad of Scandinavian straw ornaments, and Amazon had sent several Christmas CDs, including soundtracks to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and A Charlie Brown Christmas, and Handel's Messiah. There was one other goody, but since that will be a Christmas surprise for my husband, I'll not mention it on the off chance he actually reads this post.
As a kid, like many of my generation, December was the month when I could look forward to weekly, sometimes nightly, Christmas "specials" on the TV. I'd eagerly anticipate the annual viewing of Rudolph, Frosty, Charlie Brown, and others. Rudolph was a particular favorite, and even as an adult the clumsy stop-motion animation and lo-fi sound quality hold an irresistable charm. I particularly empathized with the inhabitants of the Island of Misfit Toys. "I'll take you home, spotted elephant!" I'd silently plead. Who wouldn't love an elephant with polka dots?
As I got older I appreciated the melancholy and simple beauty of A Charlie Brown Christmas more and more, and the sound track is well-loved for good reason. And as often as we listen to some of these songs at my job this time of year, Vince Guaraldi's music always puts a smile on my face. Listening to the original version tonight was the perfect accompaniment while I busied myself in the kitchen.
It's good to know that after all these years, Christmas can still bring out the kid in us.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
No Spilling the Beans
I can tell that December has rolled around when two things happen: strings of blinking lights appear around my cubicle just as poinsettias pop up on our desks, and at back at home I become preoccupied with chili.
This preoccupation is not, in fact, due to the fact that I am especially fond of chili. In fact, this is one of the only times of year I make it. Our friends Satoshi and Heather, however, began the tradition of a holiday chili cook-off several years ago, and each year there are those who try to outdo each other with the meatiest, spiciest, or just plain most unusual chili they can concoct. This year I've found myself getting more in the spirit of the event, and even determined to create a unique chili completely of my own making.
In the past, I admit to succumbing to the dull idea of following a recipe, generally one that included no tomatoes and no red meat, as I don't generally eat red meat, and I tend to prefer white beans and creamy sauces over the kidney beans and tomato sauce found in more familiar versions. The lack of red meat has really been a detriment to my winning any of the prizes, however. Last year, for example, the winning recipe featured generous use of bacon grease.
This year, all bets are off. Oh, I don't expect to win. I'm still steering clear of the red meat. But I have come up with something a little more, let's say, exciting. "What's that?" you ask. "Do tell!" Oh no, you're not getting it out of me that easily. This is a competition! My recipe must remain top secret. But I promise, if it goes well, I'll publish it here on Rutabagastories.
Tonight I began work on my creation, and stage one of the chili is now complete. Stage two will commence tomorrow evening, following which Michael and I will test the results at dinner. Finally, stage three will take place this Saturday, when I make any final adjustments deemed necessary. Stay tuned!
This preoccupation is not, in fact, due to the fact that I am especially fond of chili. In fact, this is one of the only times of year I make it. Our friends Satoshi and Heather, however, began the tradition of a holiday chili cook-off several years ago, and each year there are those who try to outdo each other with the meatiest, spiciest, or just plain most unusual chili they can concoct. This year I've found myself getting more in the spirit of the event, and even determined to create a unique chili completely of my own making.
In the past, I admit to succumbing to the dull idea of following a recipe, generally one that included no tomatoes and no red meat, as I don't generally eat red meat, and I tend to prefer white beans and creamy sauces over the kidney beans and tomato sauce found in more familiar versions. The lack of red meat has really been a detriment to my winning any of the prizes, however. Last year, for example, the winning recipe featured generous use of bacon grease.
This year, all bets are off. Oh, I don't expect to win. I'm still steering clear of the red meat. But I have come up with something a little more, let's say, exciting. "What's that?" you ask. "Do tell!" Oh no, you're not getting it out of me that easily. This is a competition! My recipe must remain top secret. But I promise, if it goes well, I'll publish it here on Rutabagastories.
Tonight I began work on my creation, and stage one of the chili is now complete. Stage two will commence tomorrow evening, following which Michael and I will test the results at dinner. Finally, stage three will take place this Saturday, when I make any final adjustments deemed necessary. Stay tuned!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
My First Crush
Sunday night we splurged for one last $30 three course dinner with Dine Around Seattle. My choice was Crush, the darling of Capitol Hill's dining elite. Why not go somewhere with a standard menu beyond our reach? At Crush, the entrees are typically over $30, so getting a three course meal for that price felt like a bargain. One of Michael's co-workers, John, who is of the foodie-inclined, joined us. It's always more fun sharing an elegant meal with someone else whom you know will appreciate it.
Crush sets a mood right from the start - the decor is stark white and sparse, but without feeling cold. We took our seats in swoopy, snow white molded chairs and perused the menu. First up, a cocktail, although this was in addition, of course, to our $30 dinner. I've lately come to feel that when dining at a high end restaurant, a cocktail provides better value than wine. There's such a high mark-up on wine, and yet all the restaurant has to do is pull the cork. With the recent trend for finely crafted cocktails, however, it's not uncommon for even a somewhat average place to infuse their own spirits and experiment with novel flavor combinations. Chances are I would never make the "Perfect Pair", featuring house infused vodka and Oregon's Clear Creek pear brandy among other ingredients, at home, but I can easily find bottles of wine I enjoy for under $10 at Trader Joe's.
We sipped our drinks slowly and nibbled on the bread that arrived artfully arranged on individual trays. The first course arrived on stunning white dishes. I had ordered the leek and celery root soup, and found a small pool of creamy leek soup set before me, pretty as a picture, topped with a dollop of celery root puree, some perfectly places snippets of chive and miniature croutons, and a few precise drizzles of what I mistakenly believed was olive oil. To my surprise - and delight - it turned out to be an incredibly vibrant lemon reduction. The combination of the bright lemon with the rich leek soup and the clean tasting celery root was amazing. Michael enjoyed succulent pork belly, probably his favorite dish of the night.
The scallop with chowder vegetables made a rich, satisfying second course. I still think that the most perfect scallops I have tasted were at the Wild Rose in Bandon, Oregon, but this would be a close second.
While John and I both enjoyed the scallop dish, Michael was a little disappointed in his trofie pasta with braised short ribs. The meat, as one would hope, was meltingly tender, he told me, and the pasta was good, it just lacked the fuller flavors that he had expected.
The waitstaff at Crush is quick to discreetly remove your dishes once you have finished, leaving you with a splarkling clean table over which to converse as you await the next course. Enjoying the leisurely pace of the meal, I hadn't even noticed that our desserts were late in coming, when we were brought a complimentary tray of three housemade chocolates along with an apology for the delay. Thoughtful gestures like these helped put our experience above the ordinary.
Dessert was a decadent homemade marshmallow topped with a chocolate sorbet of sorts (I'm really not sure what to call it) served alongside a choclate cookie with a cup of rich European style hot chocolate for dunking. John chose the somewhat less decadent cranberry bread pudding. As a final surprise, we were brought two quartets of tiny treats with the check, including chocolate candied almonds, pomegranate marshmallows, miniature shortbread squares, and poppy seed madeleines.
As we left the restaurant and headed to the car, I was surprised to learn that we had spent more than two hours enjoying our meal. I also felt pleasantly full even though none of the courses had seemed large. Perhaps this is one benefit to a leisurely meal; since it takes time for your brain to register that you are, in fact, full, eating at a slower pace is a good guard against overeating, in addition to providing a more pleasureable experience.
Our meal at Crush was definitely worth the $30 (plus drink, tax, and tip) price tag, although I still don't think I would go there and pay full price. I'm just not interested in spending that much on food, and even the Dine Around Seattle dinners are a real splurge for us. I do get a little irritated when I read articles online about what a great deal Dine Around is because, yes, it can be a good deal, comparatively, but for many people this is still completely out of reach and a purely frivolous way to spend good money. And, as cool as Crush's chic white decor may be, the somewhat more casual feel of a place like Restaurant Zoe is more my style for a big night out. But for one night, it felt good to experience the incredible attention to detail - from the specially designed plates for each course, to the beautiful and surprising food, to the gracious service that made me feel immediately welcome - and savor a great meal at Crush.
Crush sets a mood right from the start - the decor is stark white and sparse, but without feeling cold. We took our seats in swoopy, snow white molded chairs and perused the menu. First up, a cocktail, although this was in addition, of course, to our $30 dinner. I've lately come to feel that when dining at a high end restaurant, a cocktail provides better value than wine. There's such a high mark-up on wine, and yet all the restaurant has to do is pull the cork. With the recent trend for finely crafted cocktails, however, it's not uncommon for even a somewhat average place to infuse their own spirits and experiment with novel flavor combinations. Chances are I would never make the "Perfect Pair", featuring house infused vodka and Oregon's Clear Creek pear brandy among other ingredients, at home, but I can easily find bottles of wine I enjoy for under $10 at Trader Joe's.
We sipped our drinks slowly and nibbled on the bread that arrived artfully arranged on individual trays. The first course arrived on stunning white dishes. I had ordered the leek and celery root soup, and found a small pool of creamy leek soup set before me, pretty as a picture, topped with a dollop of celery root puree, some perfectly places snippets of chive and miniature croutons, and a few precise drizzles of what I mistakenly believed was olive oil. To my surprise - and delight - it turned out to be an incredibly vibrant lemon reduction. The combination of the bright lemon with the rich leek soup and the clean tasting celery root was amazing. Michael enjoyed succulent pork belly, probably his favorite dish of the night.
The scallop with chowder vegetables made a rich, satisfying second course. I still think that the most perfect scallops I have tasted were at the Wild Rose in Bandon, Oregon, but this would be a close second.
While John and I both enjoyed the scallop dish, Michael was a little disappointed in his trofie pasta with braised short ribs. The meat, as one would hope, was meltingly tender, he told me, and the pasta was good, it just lacked the fuller flavors that he had expected.
The waitstaff at Crush is quick to discreetly remove your dishes once you have finished, leaving you with a splarkling clean table over which to converse as you await the next course. Enjoying the leisurely pace of the meal, I hadn't even noticed that our desserts were late in coming, when we were brought a complimentary tray of three housemade chocolates along with an apology for the delay. Thoughtful gestures like these helped put our experience above the ordinary.
Dessert was a decadent homemade marshmallow topped with a chocolate sorbet of sorts (I'm really not sure what to call it) served alongside a choclate cookie with a cup of rich European style hot chocolate for dunking. John chose the somewhat less decadent cranberry bread pudding. As a final surprise, we were brought two quartets of tiny treats with the check, including chocolate candied almonds, pomegranate marshmallows, miniature shortbread squares, and poppy seed madeleines.
As we left the restaurant and headed to the car, I was surprised to learn that we had spent more than two hours enjoying our meal. I also felt pleasantly full even though none of the courses had seemed large. Perhaps this is one benefit to a leisurely meal; since it takes time for your brain to register that you are, in fact, full, eating at a slower pace is a good guard against overeating, in addition to providing a more pleasureable experience.
Our meal at Crush was definitely worth the $30 (plus drink, tax, and tip) price tag, although I still don't think I would go there and pay full price. I'm just not interested in spending that much on food, and even the Dine Around Seattle dinners are a real splurge for us. I do get a little irritated when I read articles online about what a great deal Dine Around is because, yes, it can be a good deal, comparatively, but for many people this is still completely out of reach and a purely frivolous way to spend good money. And, as cool as Crush's chic white decor may be, the somewhat more casual feel of a place like Restaurant Zoe is more my style for a big night out. But for one night, it felt good to experience the incredible attention to detail - from the specially designed plates for each course, to the beautiful and surprising food, to the gracious service that made me feel immediately welcome - and savor a great meal at Crush.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)