In a previous post I mentioned how I've experienced several seven hour, very memorable meals. Two of these meals have been chez moi. This post shall detail the first seven hour meal that I created myself.
The Origins of My Own Seven Hour Meal:
As you can probably tell by now, I am a francophile. I've spent almost two years living over there, for school, work and pleasure. My junior year of college was spent in the south of France, more specifically in Aix-en-Provence. A lovely hill town/city, with narrow, winding cobblestone roads, and a splendid array of fountains--indeed, 'aix' means 'water' in Latin (vestige from the Roman times) and Aix-en-Provence derived its name from the many, many fountains that adorn the streets. In the fall of that year abroad, I volunteered on a small winery in the Rhone Valley in the Northwestern part of Provence. In the autumn, vinophiles come from all over the globe to help with the harvesting of the grapes.
Fast forward several years and I returned to the same vineyard and had to treat myself to a sumptuous bottle, errr ok, case of Hermitage from the year I was there. On my return home, I impatiently awaited the treasure to arrive. Three weeks later I opened up a case of 12 dusty bottles of 2003 Hermitage. I was giddy. As I was inspecting the bottles, I observed that one bottle had a lot more dust on it than the others and had a different color label. I quizzically perused the label and as realization hit me as to the contents, my eyes bulged and I started shaking; shaking so much that I had to put the bottle down for fear that I would drop it. It was a 1997 Chave Hermitage! This is by far the best bottle of wine that I've had in my possession. An accompanying note from the winery revealed that they knew the bottle was a the case and based on my very zealous ravings at the store, they knew it was in the right hands now and to enjoy. I let out a long breath (for I realized I'd been holding it in) and sighed to know that it wasn't a mistake, it really was all mine.
Now that I had this treasure in my possession, what would I do with it? Store it? Drink it?
I couldn't not partake in it. I had to have it now. But if I was going to have it now, I'd have to honor it the best way I knew how. Create my own seven hour french meal--using recipes that I had picked up whilst in France.
But who would I share this with? Who would appreciate it? Whether or not a person is educated in wine and knows 'what vintage means what' is irrelevant to me. It's all about the spirit of a person. Will the person appreciate the full sensual experience of the meal? Will they be able to be swept up into the moment and not think about time or other concerns?
My best buddy Melissa first flashed into my head. We spent the most amount of time together. However, two memories floated to the surface: "I wish they would make a pill for eating, it's such a waste of time sometimes" and "why use a recipe that takes a whole day when you can use Rachel Ray's 30 Minute Meals?" I knew in my heart that Melissa was too practical to appreciate the bliss.
Soon after, I thought of my long-time family friend, Grant Swisher. As I considered him as a candidate, I absently nodded in approval. He may not know anything about wine, but he enjoys sitting and enjoying the simple pleasures in life. Plus, I've known him my whole life and he would know exactly what this bottle and accompanying food would mean to me. Our fathers went to Dartmouth together; his Dad was my Dad's best man; our families went on ski vacations every year; we both spent a considerable amount of time living abroad; we both went to Colby; and now we both found ourselves living in Philadelphia. Two New Englanders and old time friends coming together to enjoy a meal. Yes, I liked the idea of that.
I sent him an email entitled "A Sumptuous Affair" and he of course eagerly accepted.
I took a full two weeks to plan out the meal. The majority of the time was spent researching what flavors would go best with the Hermitage. Four days before the event, I walked down to the Italian Market and bought supplies at the butcher, the cheese shop, the chocolate shop, the spice corner, and the fruit/veggie stand. This is one of my favorite parts of making a big meal. Taking an afternoon to leisurely peruse all the specialty shops and converse with the owners. The Italian Market makes me feel like I'm fifty years in the past and doing things that many, many women before my time have done. It makes the meal all the more special.
First Course: Assorted cheeses
Accompanied by 2003 Riesling
Second Course: Puff pastry filled with goat cheese and shitake mushrooms
Accompanied by 2003 Croze-Hermitage
Third Course: Roast Venison with scalloped potatoes
Accompanied by 1997 Jean-Louis Chave Hermitage
Fourth Course: Arugula salad with a broiled Crotin de Chavignole on top. Dijon dressing
Fifth Course: Mocha pot de creme
Sixth Course: Calvados
Grant came over around 7pm. We finally finished the meal around 2:00 am. It was sublime. The wine made me giddy. Grant had to pour it into our glasses because my hands were shaking so much. I was ridiculously caught up in its aromas, so much so that I told Grant not to talk while I was taking a sip because I wouldn't hear a word he was saying. I was in its trance, in its thrall, whatever you want to call it; I was completely enraptured. What did it taste like, I mean other than heaven? Hmmm, not very good at descriptions. Blackberries. Slightly acidic. After taste of tannins, but only slight. Full-bodied. Left a very good taste in your mouth, even five minutes later. The scent was the most powerful I'd ever experienced. That's what really got me giddy. Drinking in the aromas was just as satisfying as drinking the actual liquid.
I also learned a lot about Grant that I didn't know before. Growing up, he had an obsession with the number 11 and made his mom give him 11 of everything in his lunch (i.e. exactly 11 grapes has to be prepared). He also has to have the volume of the background music at the perfect level at all times. This means that he may have to inexplicably get up from the table--mid-conversation or no--and tinker with the volume knob on my speakers. The music selection was awesome. Radiohead, of course, as we are both avid fans, then a selection of music from my France days. In particular I played a type of music called Rai which hails from french-Northern Africa. This always gets me feeling very sentimental and reminiscent, so of course the conversation also drifted down my memory lane in France. Grant has a wide and eclectic range of music so he eventually pulled his iPOD out and set the conversation and tone into another direction.
And that is how the evening played out. I remember it remarkably well considering the haze that set in around the second course.
The Origins of My Own Seven Hour Meal:
As you can probably tell by now, I am a francophile. I've spent almost two years living over there, for school, work and pleasure. My junior year of college was spent in the south of France, more specifically in Aix-en-Provence. A lovely hill town/city, with narrow, winding cobblestone roads, and a splendid array of fountains--indeed, 'aix' means 'water' in Latin (vestige from the Roman times) and Aix-en-Provence derived its name from the many, many fountains that adorn the streets. In the fall of that year abroad, I volunteered on a small winery in the Rhone Valley in the Northwestern part of Provence. In the autumn, vinophiles come from all over the globe to help with the harvesting of the grapes.
Fast forward several years and I returned to the same vineyard and had to treat myself to a sumptuous bottle, errr ok, case of Hermitage from the year I was there. On my return home, I impatiently awaited the treasure to arrive. Three weeks later I opened up a case of 12 dusty bottles of 2003 Hermitage. I was giddy. As I was inspecting the bottles, I observed that one bottle had a lot more dust on it than the others and had a different color label. I quizzically perused the label and as realization hit me as to the contents, my eyes bulged and I started shaking; shaking so much that I had to put the bottle down for fear that I would drop it. It was a 1997 Chave Hermitage! This is by far the best bottle of wine that I've had in my possession. An accompanying note from the winery revealed that they knew the bottle was a the case and based on my very zealous ravings at the store, they knew it was in the right hands now and to enjoy. I let out a long breath (for I realized I'd been holding it in) and sighed to know that it wasn't a mistake, it really was all mine.
Now that I had this treasure in my possession, what would I do with it? Store it? Drink it?
I couldn't not partake in it. I had to have it now. But if I was going to have it now, I'd have to honor it the best way I knew how. Create my own seven hour french meal--using recipes that I had picked up whilst in France.
But who would I share this with? Who would appreciate it? Whether or not a person is educated in wine and knows 'what vintage means what' is irrelevant to me. It's all about the spirit of a person. Will the person appreciate the full sensual experience of the meal? Will they be able to be swept up into the moment and not think about time or other concerns?
My best buddy Melissa first flashed into my head. We spent the most amount of time together. However, two memories floated to the surface: "I wish they would make a pill for eating, it's such a waste of time sometimes" and "why use a recipe that takes a whole day when you can use Rachel Ray's 30 Minute Meals?" I knew in my heart that Melissa was too practical to appreciate the bliss.
Soon after, I thought of my long-time family friend, Grant Swisher. As I considered him as a candidate, I absently nodded in approval. He may not know anything about wine, but he enjoys sitting and enjoying the simple pleasures in life. Plus, I've known him my whole life and he would know exactly what this bottle and accompanying food would mean to me. Our fathers went to Dartmouth together; his Dad was my Dad's best man; our families went on ski vacations every year; we both spent a considerable amount of time living abroad; we both went to Colby; and now we both found ourselves living in Philadelphia. Two New Englanders and old time friends coming together to enjoy a meal. Yes, I liked the idea of that.
I sent him an email entitled "A Sumptuous Affair" and he of course eagerly accepted.
I took a full two weeks to plan out the meal. The majority of the time was spent researching what flavors would go best with the Hermitage. Four days before the event, I walked down to the Italian Market and bought supplies at the butcher, the cheese shop, the chocolate shop, the spice corner, and the fruit/veggie stand. This is one of my favorite parts of making a big meal. Taking an afternoon to leisurely peruse all the specialty shops and converse with the owners. The Italian Market makes me feel like I'm fifty years in the past and doing things that many, many women before my time have done. It makes the meal all the more special.
First Course: Assorted cheeses
Accompanied by 2003 Riesling
Second Course: Puff pastry filled with goat cheese and shitake mushrooms
Accompanied by 2003 Croze-Hermitage
Third Course: Roast Venison with scalloped potatoes
Accompanied by 1997 Jean-Louis Chave Hermitage
Fourth Course: Arugula salad with a broiled Crotin de Chavignole on top. Dijon dressing
Fifth Course: Mocha pot de creme
Sixth Course: Calvados
Grant came over around 7pm. We finally finished the meal around 2:00 am. It was sublime. The wine made me giddy. Grant had to pour it into our glasses because my hands were shaking so much. I was ridiculously caught up in its aromas, so much so that I told Grant not to talk while I was taking a sip because I wouldn't hear a word he was saying. I was in its trance, in its thrall, whatever you want to call it; I was completely enraptured. What did it taste like, I mean other than heaven? Hmmm, not very good at descriptions. Blackberries. Slightly acidic. After taste of tannins, but only slight. Full-bodied. Left a very good taste in your mouth, even five minutes later. The scent was the most powerful I'd ever experienced. That's what really got me giddy. Drinking in the aromas was just as satisfying as drinking the actual liquid.
I also learned a lot about Grant that I didn't know before. Growing up, he had an obsession with the number 11 and made his mom give him 11 of everything in his lunch (i.e. exactly 11 grapes has to be prepared). He also has to have the volume of the background music at the perfect level at all times. This means that he may have to inexplicably get up from the table--mid-conversation or no--and tinker with the volume knob on my speakers. The music selection was awesome. Radiohead, of course, as we are both avid fans, then a selection of music from my France days. In particular I played a type of music called Rai which hails from french-Northern Africa. This always gets me feeling very sentimental and reminiscent, so of course the conversation also drifted down my memory lane in France. Grant has a wide and eclectic range of music so he eventually pulled his iPOD out and set the conversation and tone into another direction.
And that is how the evening played out. I remember it remarkably well considering the haze that set in around the second course.
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Actually posted on February 3, 2009 at 3 pm.
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