We lacked a name. Were we SWIRL lite? A mini-SWIRL? SWIRLette? How to describe our many variations. Seven strong of ten entire. Enough I would say, although those absences were felt.
The night in the classy abode of B&S: arty, warm, soothing, and comfortable. The classic joke: R&S have the apps and running late, but it never matters. We meld and shape to the evening, wherever we are, whoever is there and however it plays.
The apps mushroom and asparagus with crostini....I can scarcely remember, just that it was oh-so-delicious. And the scene stealer, the widow, THE WIDOW! There are more sophisticated bubbles, more precise and acidic or leesy, but the WIDOW always pleases. ALWAYS.
Suzie's to die for pork with polenta and kale. I could die eating the crusty edges of Suzie's roast pork with no regrets. The bevs: a truly delightful montepulciano d'abruzzo (date can't recall) with overtones of rich soil and blood and tart berries (!), a puzzling 2000 pinot from Archery Summit that, in a blind tasting, I would have bet was a WWW syrah, so sweet and candied and so unpinot like, a 2006 Barolo that tasted basic and lacking in sophistry, and second label from Cougar Creek...involution? inception? convolution? I can't recall its name but it was waaaay too easy to drink. Well, they all were ant that should come as no surprise sports fans.
K's signature salad cleansed the palate with immense pleasure. It was exactly what you wanted to eat to buoy up, for the evening was young yet. I can't be objective about that salad; it's one of my favorites, rich but not filling.
Finally KT's dualing desserts: a chocolate torte and a wenatchee apple torte. Both beguiling and befitting the end of such a delightful evening. What is it about food and friends and wine and friends that stirs the soul, that satisfies the longing to be part of a larger reality...the great unspecified ALL? Don't really know but I do know that it works and that it works because of all of you/us.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
SWIRL: The Extended Family Version
"Long time since I've called down this mountain before." Beautiful words, eh? And the melody that goes with them is so moving that you can accept these words as if they make a dreamy impeccable sense...which they may; I'm not the best at pulling stract from the abstract. But this phrase seems appropriate as I climb back on the horse that brought me here, to you, to the chronicles of our gustatory play.
Forgive me for not chronicling our December Swirl. It was magnificent and this far out from that date it is probably best to toss out the old "you had to be there" sobriquet and let it go at that. We have matured to the point that we don't need every detail of each and every wine and dish to give them cred. Thank heavens, for that, as my 'each and every detail' gets thinner with the passing days. Fortunately, my ability to hold to memories still runs a few weeks out, so let's talk about the 12th of February before it slips away.
A wonderful evening, the 12th, perfect except for the absence of the ailing Lee and her wet nurse Rick. Those gathered were drawn to the promise of a white boy's version of jambalaya and his wife's rebel anthem: "hungry, thirsty, lonely? Come on to my kitchen." This, I believe, can be the Swirl version of the Statue of Liberty credo; except our welcomer of all huddled masses will be foisting a 1998 Vieux Telegraphe CDP, as her beacon against the darkness that stalks all tattered souls. A mystical promise for redemption.
The food as always, stellar. We are good cooks, one and all. Some with oodles of finesse and some with a platter full of good intentions, but it all always finds a way to the table, graciously received. Jewel kicked us off with some My T Fine shrimp, lavished with a creole sauce. She also graciously proffered up the sparkle and shine of the "J". Something in that sparkling wine felt familiar: we've had it before, but it felt new again, like a long absent uncle who's been away traveling over seas and now returns with a new gusto and mysticism that we'd not noticed before.Vaguely remembered, perhaps, but now it was like we were seeing him with new eyes: "hey, let's spend more time with Uncle J. He's a lot of fun to be around!"
Dinner followed. Steve's fab-u-lish beans of many colors and shapes; Suzie's plate/pallete of perfectly roasted vegetables; and the cacophony of rice/vegetables/chicken-ham-sausage known as jambalaya. To this table of warm, comfortable food came our various vinous relations:
Forgive me for not chronicling our December Swirl. It was magnificent and this far out from that date it is probably best to toss out the old "you had to be there" sobriquet and let it go at that. We have matured to the point that we don't need every detail of each and every wine and dish to give them cred. Thank heavens, for that, as my 'each and every detail' gets thinner with the passing days. Fortunately, my ability to hold to memories still runs a few weeks out, so let's talk about the 12th of February before it slips away.
A wonderful evening, the 12th, perfect except for the absence of the ailing Lee and her wet nurse Rick. Those gathered were drawn to the promise of a white boy's version of jambalaya and his wife's rebel anthem: "hungry, thirsty, lonely? Come on to my kitchen." This, I believe, can be the Swirl version of the Statue of Liberty credo; except our welcomer of all huddled masses will be foisting a 1998 Vieux Telegraphe CDP, as her beacon against the darkness that stalks all tattered souls. A mystical promise for redemption.
The food as always, stellar. We are good cooks, one and all. Some with oodles of finesse and some with a platter full of good intentions, but it all always finds a way to the table, graciously received. Jewel kicked us off with some My T Fine shrimp, lavished with a creole sauce. She also graciously proffered up the sparkle and shine of the "J". Something in that sparkling wine felt familiar: we've had it before, but it felt new again, like a long absent uncle who's been away traveling over seas and now returns with a new gusto and mysticism that we'd not noticed before.Vaguely remembered, perhaps, but now it was like we were seeing him with new eyes: "hey, let's spend more time with Uncle J. He's a lot of fun to be around!"
Dinner followed. Steve's fab-u-lish beans of many colors and shapes; Suzie's plate/pallete of perfectly roasted vegetables; and the cacophony of rice/vegetables/chicken-ham-sausage known as jambalaya. To this table of warm, comfortable food came our various vinous relations:
- Kay invited her 1994 warm and supple Rioja. It felt like perfectly laundered and worn percale sheets; you know the kind: you slip in and feel overwhelmed by time-worn comfort; subtle, regal, no-need-to-fret goodness, like a garment - your favorite - that always fits just right and always feels so good against your skin. Thank you sister Kay.
- Barry and Suzie brought along the bright "new" Rioja, from 2006, I believe. This elegant and well mannered child showed the cut and jib of proper breeding: not stuffy or aloof, but the polish and verve of one who knows his good fortune and wears it with grace and humility. Thank you brother Barry and sister Suzie.
- Ruth and Steve came with the twins, Amity's Riesling and Pinot Blanc. Lady Riesling, elegant and graceful, sweet without sugary sappiness; a quiet beauty that added extra light to the room; not shy, mind you, but without any need to draw attention to herself. Sadly, Lady P. Blanc did not have time to say much, out done by the full chatter of others, but she remained on, after you all had gone home, and she became our delightful companion for many evenings of leftovers; clearly used to be slightly shadowed by her older sister, Lady R, on her own her voice is clear and resolute and engaging. I think she might be more at home at smaller venues, more intimate affairs. Which is not to say that she's a shrinking violet, only that she will not shout to be heard. Thank you brother Steve and sister Ruth.
- Jewel, doubling her generosity, also brought along her fresh off the plane cousin from eastern Washington, Amavi syrah. Miss Amavi was thrilled to make our acquaintance Fresh faced and robust with the latest fashion, she settled in with the assurance of one who knows the world and is easily comfortable in any setting. New to us but with a niggling sense that you've seen her before. Thank you sister Jewel.
- Gene threw out a picnic wine, a 2007 beaujolais village, but it was no match for this table. Realizing that its time was not at hand, it sat quietly drinking in the evening, not brooding but appreciating the evening for what it was. Next time brother Gene.
Amidst the clatter and clamor of dinner, Kay quietly slipped in yet another homage to the goddess of salade. Rich and cleansing, restorative and elegant. By this time, the wines were nearing the end, the company of friends and relations warming us into a languid familiarity; it was as the youth like to say, "it's all gooood".
Ah, but wait. We were not done yet! The down but not out Lee could not be here in the flesh but her spirit lived on in a Gluten Corrected pear crumble. (Food Police: if it wasn't a crumble, per se, be not too harsh for your scribe tries his best). A beautiful end to a fine meal, continuing on with the overwhelming sense of comfort and goodness that befalls all events under our direction and gaze.
Amongst the various foods/wines and relations, we were also blessed to have the Dentist from Down Under, Mark, join our table. The lilt of another accent added a nice bit of spice to our tribal accord. Welcome any time, Mate!
This is my long and long-winded recollection of our evening. Add, subtract as you see fit fellow Swirlers.
G
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