Thursday, January 22, 2009

An Evening With Nobility

I think it's time I quit kidding myself. This blog has nothing to do with making observations about the world or commenting on current events. It seems to be about food, only food. Maybe I should just embrace it and only write about Food Porn. What's with the revelation, you might ask? What took me so long to figure that out? I don't know, and frankly I don't care, because I will continue to write about whatever nonsense comes to mind. But today, I shall write about my evening with Nobility and Garmin.

Nobility asked me to come to dinner at her house last night. I showed up in my pajamas with a bottle of wine and dessert. Had I known the lengths she was going to go to in cooking dinner, I would have at least had the decency to wear jeans and a bra. I thought it was going to be a typical evening of some good, simple food, wine and backgammon. But, no. I walked in and the smells of total gustatory hedonism assaulted my senses.

A tray of Caprese salad caught my eye first. She must have remembered that I only do tomatoes in an adulterated fashion. The thinly sliced tomatoes were topped with slices of fresh mozzarella, fresh basil leaves and balsamic vinegar. Enter salivation stage left.

"I wanted to invite Mister," she said, "but I know how picky he is."

I looked around. I saw vegetables. Mushrooms. The wrong cut of meat.

"Nah, he's not into this kind of thing," I said. "Besides, he's already in bed. His snowmobile weekend wiped him out. It's just me, baby!"

At the stove, Nobility stirred the mushrooms as they sauteed in butter, adding a hissing stream of sherry. New potatoes boiled, preparing to be mashed. She offered me a pop-over fresh from the oven with honey-butter for an appetizer. We discussed whether pop-overs should be considered a bread or a pastry, and as I spread the honey-butter over the crusty top, it melted into the spongy crevices.

"Where did you get these? They're awesome." I had to repeat myself, as I said that with a mouthful.

"I made them. I was looking at a cookbook, and thought, 'I have all that stuff. I'll just make them myself.'"

"You what? Who are you, woman? I thought I knew you." The Nobility I know doesn't bake. Or, at least she didn't bake, but I think she should pursue a new hobby.

"Yeah, she made the butter, too," Garmin said. He upped the ante by retrieving the Nutella I brought to go with the pizzelle for dessert. We schmeared the gooey chocolate-hazelnut spread, furthering the "dessert as appetizer" theme and all decided that pop-overs with Nutella would truly be the breakfast of champions.

As Nobility began to mash the potatoes, I stood nearby to help pour in the milk and otherwise avail myself as a sous chef. Soon, she had me rubbing the gorgeous rib-eye steaks she was going to broil for us. We stood by the oven, watching the heat caramelize the steaks and I decided to try my hand as a saucier. I attempted to turn the butter/sherry/mushroom butter into a roux and then into gravy, but it turns out my saucier skills suck. What a shame. A better cook could have turned that into a delectable sauce, but my alchemical attempts to do so were an embarrassment to cooks everywhere.

Finally, after waiting, debating and salivating, we decided the beef was perfect. She plated the fluffy, golden mashed potatoes and the rib-eye with a sprinkling of mushrooms. We commenced. I looked at my friend, whom I've known for a decade and said, "You're in the wrong line of work. This is insanely good." I thought for a moment. "You know what? Mister would have flipped his lid. The only thing he wouldn't have eaten was the mushrooms. I'll have to tell him we had sushi or something."

Spoiled rotten, that's what I am. This meal represented her first attempts to make pop-overs, honey-butter, broil steaks and make her mom's famous sherry mushrooms. It was all perfection. We ate until it hurt a little, and then settled in for some games.

That's when the pizzelle and Nutella came out. Pizzelles are my new favorite sweet. Thin, crispy waffle-like cookies that remind me of a flat ice-cream cone, these babies are versatile. The things a person could do with pizzelles... For my money, there is nothing better than Nutella, but I found myself fantasizing about layering Nutella, mascarpone and hazelnut gelatto. But that's just me being a filthy food whore. What can I say?

Thank you, Nobility and Garmin, for a fabulous night in. You guys are the best!


Anonymous said...

I feel dirty just reading that. Sounds like a delicious time.

You do write about food alot, when was the last time you had your cholesterol checked? :P

Between your eating, and my drinking we make quite a pair of debaucherators, or is it debauchers

Nora said...

Oh, Riv. Debaucherator is now my favorite word of all time.



Yeah. That's an awesome word.although, I might actually be a debaucheratrix.

Anonymous said...

Debaucheratrix. HAHA.

When do you get the leather outfit?

Slippy said...

I always feel dirty reading Nora's posts, but dirty in that good way.

Hot Carl said...

I have found it is wise to eat just before reading this blog as to minimize the prose's mouth watering side effects.

Nora said...

Good, Hot Carl. It is my goal to make everyone as obsessed with food porn as I am.