Life imitates movies

I remember deciding a few years ago to get over going to a good restaurant alone. I was in Vancouver by myself and made a reservation at Le Gavroche, full-on French cuisine, where I was seated upstairs in the renovated Victorian, in front of the fireplace. Determined to have the full solo experience, I ordered the three course dinner, which was a leisurely 2 1/2 hours of service. Bookless, I watched the servers, the other patrons, thought my own thoughts.

The waiter was far more uncomfortable with my situation than I was. He kept popping by, telling feeble jokes, asking how I was...and I was, truly, fine. I enjoyed each dish they presented, I watched the snap-shirted, tight-Wranglered cowboys saunter in and suavely navigate the menu. I watched the hapless man in his out of season white linen suit with his pretty Asian date return from the washroom with toilet paper trailing from his shoe...it was all fascinating, the kind of vignettes you think only happen in movies.

So when Hubby was gone a month ago and I was ready for someone else to cook, I went to neighbourhood foodie joint Brava Bistro and the accommodating hostess asked a larger group at the bar to make room for me. Thank you.

One of the men from the group was very focused...on me. While he never smiled, he had the undistracted stare of a cat in a blinking contest. Ahem. Oh well, I can edit my enjoyment of the room to skip over that group...until 'Bill' came over and introduced himself. "My friend is very shy, but he'd love for you to come over and have a glass of wine with us." "Ummm...thanks, but I have a Skype date. With my husband." Thanks anyway, I guess, please move on now so my neon pink blush doesn't irradiate the room.

So tonight, with Hubby away again, I was ready for a nice little supper made by not-me. Back to Brava. Again, a seat was found for me at the bar, where the service is exactly how I like it and ordered - surprise! - the scallops to start and then the lobster gnocchi. Mid-scallop I start to wonder, does that kind of look like - Bill? You have got to be kidding me. This is is usual Friday night stop! Oh well, he's at the opposite side of the bar talking in the other direction to his friend, I'm hedged in by other diners, I should be safe.

The the waiter swoops in with a glass of wine. "From the gentlemen at the end of the bar." Blast. I've been spotted. Does this really happen outside of movies? So what does Emily Post say about this situation? I nod at the two of them to acknowledge the gift, but then I am distracted from enjoying the sweet pop of the fresh peas in the lobster cream sauce as I wonder - do I have to go speak to them? Surely the nod was enough for a unwanted drink from a stranger? And my beautiful wedding ring is sparkling away. Grrr. I force myself back to my dinner - I need to be sure my potatoes are mashed into silkiness when making gnocchi next time, these are delightfully light - when Bill stops by. He apologizes for the interruption, introduces himself, says his friend is really shy and he'd like me to come over for another glass of wine. I smile politely and decline.

Inwardly I am howling! This is clearly part of his schtick, he doesn't remember me and I wonder if I went back in a month on another Friday night whether he'll do another round with the shy friend overture and elevate this to farce. No more solo dinners at Brava for me - at least on weekends.
http://www.legavroche.ca/default.asp
http://bravabistro.com/

Batterie de Cuisine

When Hubby came home, our reunion meal was sablefish. I adore sablefish and saw successfully cooking this as a related move towards scallop domination.

Reflection had brought me to a change in tactics - I needed a new pan. For years, I have enjoyed my anodized aluminum Anolon pans - the steady heat, the low simmer temperatures, the non-stick finish - because easy clean up is essential to making my kitchen a happy place. I remember grudgingly washing stainless steel pots as a kid and finding that the scouring of dried potato inspired Cinderella fantasies.

But watching chefs at work has shown me they use steel pans at high heat and sear is not the same without it. So okay, one 40% off sale later I have in my possession a copper sandwiched, heavy bottom stainless saute pan, and I'm not afraid to use it.

Cue the high heat. I even chilled some of the muscadet. And voila - ! yes, I got sear. I got crust. I got Hubby's downright disloyal eyes-rolled-back-in-his-head appreciation - a look I feel should be reserved only for me.

Watch out, scallops. I'm coming for you.

Table for One

Hubby has been away, which I hate. Oh, I've been good, I cooked for myself - most enjoyably a pot of curried cauliflower soup, given body and creamy mouthfeel with a handful of rice cooked with the broth and a big dollop of gorgeous Greek yogurt from Kalamata Grocery.

I've been moping, and now he's unexpectedly returning tomorrow. Re-energized, I went out to see 'Young Victoria', which I enjoyed, being a story of true love, and walked home via Farm on 17 Avenue for a little bite. I was ready for people, and the warmly lit room, full of talk and laughter, was perfect. Over a glass of Viognier, I pondered how coppa, so overwhelmingly rich on it's own, becomes a savoury counterpoint to crisp hazelnuts, dried cherries and Piave when served over greens. Mmmm.

My love is coming home and all is right with the world. Okay, so the 'Tahitian Blonde' chocolate from Epiphanie I finished with didn't hurt either.

Sunday Night Supper

It was cold and blustery. We were hungry. Break out the comfort food - in my mind, grits and sausage ranks high on the cosy/yum index. The Alabamian who was my grits conduit has never eaten them this way and I'm not sure where I got the idea - they may indeed be nothing like authentic Southern grits. But oh man - when you start eating, you lean back, body and soul, into an easy chair of enjoyment.

Grits and Sausage

Cook grits or cornmeal or polenta (what's in your cupboard?) made in the proportions of the package directions, according to how many will be eating BUT using milk and butter, and intensify the savouriness with 1/2 cup a person of sharp cheese. Cheddar, asiago, even chevre would do, use your favourite. The consistency should be like thick porridge.

While the grits are slowly plopping in the pot on simmer, prep the sausage mix.

For every two people you're serving, prep several - or all - of the following, depending on what's in the fridge and your preferences:

1 hot Italian sausage, sliced small

1 cup of raw, peeled shrimp

a handful of sliced mushrooms

a cupful of sliced grape tomatoes - or sundried would be great, too

1 diced yellow onion

1 diced red pepper

1 crushed garlic clove

1 big handful fresh spinach

a couple of green onions, chopped

Saute onion and sausage in a frying pan until the onion is translucent and the sausage is browned. You might need to start with a little oil but usually the sausage gives off enough fat. Add the garlic and stir. Toss in the shrimp and red pepper; stir until shrimp are pink, a minute or two. Add the spinach and fold in gently until all the leaves are wilted. Taste the mix and add salt and pepper if needed, and some red pepper flakes/hot sauce/chili powder if you didn't have the hot italian sausage.

Ladle the grits into bowls; top with the sausage mix. Grab a spoon and dig in. Exhale. Yes, life is good.

Monday will be alright.