Tonight's menu

[desperance]

Every time I have a dinner-party, I mean to post menus and maybe recipes, if such exist. Usually, I never do. Today's theory is that this is because I always leave it till the next day, by which time there has been eating and drinking and talking to exhaustion, sleeping and waking and washing up and wondering what to do with the leftovers, and after all of that I just don't feel inclined to keep talking about the food.

Is the theory, anyway. So I thought I'd do it now, in this last hour before the guests arrive, when much of the cooking has been done and as much of the vacuuming as will be, when I'm a little fidgety and I've turned the music up loud (Carly Simon, since you ask: for yes, I am exactly that old, that I still thrill a little when she belts) and if I didn't blog I'd just pace and fiddle.

So:

There will be olives and bread to dunk into olive oil and grape must; there will be crisps & dips & such, depending on what people bring (I like to ask people to bring that stuff, the nibbles-before-dinner; it leaves me free to think about proper food).

First course is purple sprouting broccoli, which I like as much as asparagus and tend to treat the same way, as a starter in itself. Tonight it will be steamed al dente and served with a cream, mushroom, ham and blue cheese sauce. And artisanal breads, of course.

Main course is - well, ridiculous. Once upon a time it would have been borscht (for yes, you can indeed have your soup after your starter, if it's as chewy as this); now I suppose it is borschts, twice borscht, unless it's beef-stew-with-borscht. I have made it super-chunky, like a stew, but with plenty of broth; and I have taken off some of that broth and simmered yet more beetroot and beef in it, to make it super-rich and flavoursome. The extra beef went into the main dish, but the beets were blended with the enhanced broth, to make a smooth and virulent purple borscht. Meanwhile, I hollowed out some bread rolls, painted their tummies with garlic butter and baked them golden-brown in a very low oven. So: a ladleful of the stewy borscht goes into a big bowl. A bread-bowl goes into that, like a crouton; and a ladleful of the smooooth borscht goes into that. Dollops of sour cream, sprinkles of smoked garlic. It's madness. I'll let you know how it eats.

Dessert is my classic chocolate marquise, which I can make in twenty minutes from the store-cupboard, and which shewhomust asserts to taste more chocolate than chocolate itself.

In view of which, I have not made any after-dinner chocolates. They can just have more marquise. If they're able for it.

[And now it is the cats' tea-time, and they shall have half a tin of gushyfuds and be grateful. So far today they have broken one (1) bottle of vodka - thankfully almost empty - and one (1) wardrobe mirror, and they deserve no treats. Besides which, the guests will pamper them stupid, because this is what we have guests for.]

Comments

[desperance.livejournal.com]

It's fairly solid; it might survive posting, in a suitable container. Alternately, just wait: sooner or later, we will encounter each other, and there will be chocolate pudding. There usually is, around me.

[time-freak.livejournal.com]

When we meet there can be chocolate pudding AND filthy gay erotica story swapping. I hope.