happy birthday to me

Birthdays are usually an easy set up for disappointment. Every year after you turn 21 is a battle between not wanting to make a fuss and basking in the illusion that special birthday magic belongs to you. I have, more than once, intentionally eschewed plans because I was convinced someone was going to throw me a surprise party. This year, 38, was on its way to fitting perfectly in synch with the past when the opportunity to combat apathy came in the form of a crab feed.

A week ago, I got a call from Sunni Liston, who runs the Dogpatch Resort and whose husband, Rick, spends weekends trapping crabs and catching halibut. It has been another banner year for Dungeness off the Oregon Coast, and Rick and the boys have been catching more crabs than they know what to do with. Sunni wanted to know, if Rick were to bring in say 60 crabs over the weekend, would I like to have a party on the roof at work on Monday the 30th? Well yes, of course, but no, because it's one thing to throw a party at work with a giant surplus of crabs, but another thing to throw such a party at work on your birthday. At least it is to me, who vacillates between seeking and avoiding attention on a minute to minute basis. And I see my non-work friends too little as it is. So to hell with the W+K roof: I told Sunni to bring the crabs to my house on Monday, invited 50 or so of my closest friends and co-workers, and announced we would raise money for Sunni's Angel Fund: veterinary care for the animals of the homeless.

At first, it was just going to be crab and wet-naps. Then I remembered that I still had quite a bit of ham in my meat freezer, so it was simply a pork-and-shellfish menu: right up my alley. At the last minute I decided to round the meal with corn on the cob and coleslaw (Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc recipe: flawless). People brought beverages and desserts. We ate, we drank, we raised over $300 and we were all asleep by 11pm. Could not have planned a better way to spend my birthday, even if it meant making plans.

they just don't make them like they used to

I bought a new refrigerator this week. Despite years of living with a noisy, dirty fridge that froze 40% of my vegetables and beverages, I'm not 100% joyful about the purchase. Sure, I can hear myself think now. And it's nice, while it lasts, not to find any pet hair on my mustard jars. Since one of my "deli" drawers was broken on the old one, I have a lot more space for actual storage and I can even chill wine in the door, vertically. But let's face it, modern appliances are pieces of shit. Remember your first one bedroom apartment you moved into, after graduating from having roommates? the Mission Style post-war one, with the cute built-ins and the deep porcelain kitchen sink? That little 12 cubic foot one, though no, the freezer did not work, was built to last. The interior had stainless steel, and glass, and heavy duty polymer shit. My brand new 2010 Amana is full of crappy plastic drawers and shelves that I fear will break if I even look at them with suspicion. Can't they at least line the track of the drawers in some reinforcing stainless? I guess that's what the $4000 jump between "standard" and "luxury" appliances buys you. I give this fridge less than a year before something breaks, which is why I bought a warranty (which, inevitably, will not cover what inevitably breaks).

But back to the bright side, it's quiet. And I finally have that coveted bottom freezer I've been dreaming about so long. I wonder how long it will take for me to hate that too...

Summer

La Musette has come and gone. We fed about 120 people in 3 nights, 720 plates in all. Yet I still managed to end up with 8 quarts of leftover pickled beets. As a reward, I bought myself a new camera: a Canon S90--as far as I can tell, THE point and shoot for food photography. I have yet to read the user's manual, but here's what I'm doing with my tuesday night:

The recipe is pretty basic: equal parts white wine vinegar and water, salt and sugar. And some onions. To the jars I added some bay leaf, peppercorns and coriander and caraway seeds. Guess I've taken care of my Christmas list.

Buyer's Remorse

This will teach me to look twice when purchasing cheese on sale at QFC. Next post: what NOT to do with Fat Free Feta Cheese.

La Musette

Oh boy. I've done it again. I've let days become weeks become almost months. My commitment to not over-committing myself in the wake of Half & Half's closure has resulted in a moratorium on writing and a very basic diet of fritattas and pasta dishes inspired by the markdown aisle of my refrigerator, which is to say, not very inspired. Portland's shitty weather combined with an impulsive order for 3 cubic yards of compost has had me toiling in the garden when it's not raining, and not doing much of anything when it is.

But all that is about to change. For one, the weather has finally turned a corner and it looks to be fairly safe to grill for the next few months. Also, my CSA from Gathering Together Farms has started back up again that means every week is like a game show where the challenge is to get through to the bottom of the vegetable bin without a wilted cucumber. Thirdly, I am partnering up with Laura Ohm and John Grochau for the third annual La Musette.

Laura and her husband Fred launched La Musette in their backyard 3 years ago. The premise was thus: serve a 6 course French dinner, with wine pairings, whilst watching highlights of Le Tour de France. The evening's menu would be based on what particular stage of the race was happening at the moment. La Musette ran 3 weeks in a row and one could choose a dinner based on convenience or province. This year, Laura asked me to cook with her and we quickly decided to do a 3 night blowout rather than a 3 week marathon. Also, rather than choosing a regional menu we decided to let Le Tour itself be our menu: starting in the Netherlands and ending in Paris. I'm excited. I'm also nervous. It's been so long since I've cooked for 50, and I've never pulled anything like this together before. But it's been too long since I've done anything out of my comfort zone so let's go.

Pre-dinner: Amuses-bouches

First, Rotterdam to Brussels (Stage 1): Mussels in ale with mayonnaise and grilled baguette.

Second, The French Alps (Stages 7-10): Shepherds' Board--chicken liver pâté, deviled eggs with smoked trout and lovage, pickled beets, carrot salad, mushroom pâté, Peasant levain and butter.

Third, Drôme, the mountains above Provence (Stages 11-12): Grilled ratatouille with niçoise olives, anchovies and sauce vert.

Fourth, Haut-Garonne/Pyrennnes (Stages 15-17): Summer Cassoulet--grilled pouissin, braised and grilled pork belly, salad of wilted greens and flageolet beans and piquillo pepper stuffed with potato-olive oil puree.

Fifth, Bordeaux (Stages 18-19): Roquefort, candied walnuts, stone fruit

Sixth, Paris (Stage 20): Croquembouche