The Last Lamb Supper Club

Even as a devout carnivore, lamb isn't one of my favorite meats. I didn't exactly grow up with very much of it and the times it did come across my path, all I could remember was the gamey texture and sweaty taste. It wasn't until my first hoity toity tasting menu dinner by Chef Ron Siegel at (now-closed) Charles Nob Hill back in the late 90s that I understood lamb's joys and pleasures. Some day, I'll have to write about that experience, a whole sensory stimulation of the sight, scent and taste of each course with its immaculate wine pairing, artfully described by my date's creative poetry, all while sitting at the coveted corner table.

While last night's lamb experience was a far cry from that dinner, it was nowhere less spectacular. I'm sure I've said this before and I'll say it again, there's nothing like a well-cared-for home-cooked meal. Even some of the world's top chefs would probably say the same, nothing like it. So I couldn't have been happier that I was finally able to attend one of Mango & Tomato's Lamb Supper Club dinners sponsored by the Tri-Lamb Group.

This final of three installments was a hearty dinner of lamb shanks braised with white beans and tomatoes over a boiled potato, a perfect meal for our "winter" in DC. The meat was fall-off-the-bone tender, incredibly flavorful and beautifully seasoned, with all the vegetables adding a perfect texture to accompany the star. This picture I took does nothing to do it justice and I hope you will take the opportunity to read her recipe once she posts it next week.

A Delicious Dedication

He's gone. [And] my heart is shattered in a million pieces.

Above is a tweet I happened to see during my usual Sunday evening routine of working on the computer while watching 60 Minutes. I didn't know Jennifer Perillo very well; we had only met briefly at the Eat Write Retreat Conference early this summer so I didn't understand what she was writing about. It's weird how social media lets you track innumerable people, whether they be old friends, strangers or acquaintances and I knew she and some other members I knew from the food writing community had just attended another great conference called the Big Summer Potluck. Guess I wasn't the only one who didn't know what was going on because other tweeps inquired what that meant until Shauna Ahern (aka @GlutenFreeGirl) broke the news that Jennifer's husband passed away suddenly from a heart attack. Soon after, the outpouring of sympathy on the internet over the next few days was unavoidable even from my own little sliver of the community that I know. I can't imagine how saturated all her message-media must have become with notes expressing support and offers to help in some way, any way.

Even during such a devastating time, Jennifer responded with absolute brilliance. Late Tuesday night, she posted on her blog about something she'd been wanting to do for some time, make his favorite pie. For those who were asking what we could do, she aked us in return to make Peanut Butter Pie on Friday (today) and share it with someone you love.

While I couldn't think of a more perfect dedication from a food writer/editor/maven, I hummmed and hahhhed about the idea for a while. Speaking of love and loss, my love of cooking was lost during my own marriage, and since it ended, I've spent the past few years coping with a slight form of stage-fright whenever I start cooking anything beyond bacon and eggs. But this is about healing, right? Even though I, too, had been flung off the flying carpet of love into what felt like a never-ending free-fall, I've had to force myself to figure out how to walk on solid ground again. While I still can barely crawl in the kitchen, I decided, whatever I can do to help someone in her healing process, is simply what I must do.

Folding in whipped cream to lighten up the PB mixture

as my laughs with Veronica lightened me up.
(Photo credit: Veronica Silva)

Last night, my friend, Veronica, in town from Chile, was coming to stay with me and I thought she'd be a perfect person to share the pie with, and even better, to share the pie-making duties with. Interspersed through our laughter, were memories of those dishes I'd been holding off on making that eventually became too late: pastitsio for Tomi, who went back to Croatia to care for his sister during the Yugoslavian Wars and never came back; sloppy Joes for Eric before I stopped cooking; the final version of my "Everything Tastes Better with Bacon" Apple Pie for the patient neighbors and colleagues that helped me recipe-test for the Queen Anne Farmers Market Blue Ribbon Pie Contest before I moved out of Seattle; or that dinner I was thinking about cooking for a friend after returning from the Middle East, but now won't.

Cooking for others is notoriously one of the two most unselfish acts one undertakes. (You'll have to read Anthony Bourdain's books or use your imagination to figure out the other.) Seeing others enjoying my cooking, that I admit is a completely selfish joy. Cooking together, on another hand, can be one of the most joyous experiences -- as long as it's with the right person. Veronica was heaven-sent, no pressure, just full of fun and light.

Needless to say, it was a slight roller-coaster for me last night, and even today as I write this and taste the pie. While I may think of love and loss, I feel only love. Today, while I may not be sharing my pie with that "special someone," I am sharing it with many special someones, that bless my (almost) every day. For my roommate, my neighbors, my colleagues and friends, I love you.

I modified Jennifer's recipe a bit by subtracting half the sugar,
but adding Reese's Peanut Butter Cups on top.

If anyone ever wonders what makes me happy,

it looks something like this.

Cooking and Entertaining

One nice thing about living on my own is I can cook again. I didn't realize how much I missed it until I hosted my first dinner party last week to celebrate Independence Day, and I couldn't think of a more appropriate occasion.

My friend, David, had the idea to make fish tacos. He had just moved back to Seattle from San Diego and was already missing his mother's fantastic Mexican cooking. He arrived early with his partner, Phillip, armed with a fantastic filet of fish, tortillas and other fixings. The only things missing were the recipe and the desire to cut up the fish.

So, while the two of them played Wii, I cut up the fish, seasoned panko breadcrumbs, and proceeded to improvise some fish tacos for everyone. I fried up the fish, grilled the tortillas, stuffed them with the fish, cabbage, and tomatoes, then topped them with Zane & Zack's Honey-Chipotle Salsa mixed with sour cream. I have to say, they turned out pretty well. Perhaps it was the fact they were served on my china, or more likely the fortified margaritas.