May. 12th, 2011 01:56 pm
Morel victory
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muckefuckI knew Wednesday was going to be an awful day at the office for us both. We had important meetings, and even if they ended well (which they mostly did), we would need some comfort afterwards, so I suggested we go "somewhere nice" for dinner. In our neighbourhood, that basically means Uncommon Ground if you want to drink anything that you didn't bring with in in a paper bag.
I had my misgivings because--as well-documented here--they've managed to screw something up every single time I've been. Yesterday evening was no exception. But, as luck would have it, they managed to screw up only in the most minor ways--like giving me an outdated beer list and then having to tell me the smoked stout I'd ordered wasn't available. One of them was even amusing: For six dollars, they were willing to put fresh morels on anything, so I ordered them for my gnocchi, which showed up morelless. I informed the hypercompetent waiter, who just before he was about to take my plate back said, "Oh, they put them on the meatloaf" (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu's entree). I promptly demorelised[*] it and continued eating.
The gnocchi were tasty, well sautéed, and not at all gummy. In addition to the morels and some broccoli, they were served with ramps and fiddleheads--exactly the kind of stuff I'd love to be eating if only I had the opportunity to go somewhere and collect it. I've already forgotten what beer I ordered, but it was fruity and belgiany and as lovely as a glass of wine would've been. Eating lightly allowed me to justify dessert--a cake of ground almonds held together with brown butter and topped with Black Dog gelato. (monshu went for comfort all the way, finishing with the bread pudding.)
On the way in, we had passed beds out front of strawberries and what I thought might be gooseberries. So I had a closer look at them on the way out and discovered a surprising array of herbs: sorrel, savory, tarragon, lemon balm, thyme, and a couple others, all of which I imagine must show up in their dishes. The first wave of thunderstorms had passed through at that point so we took a leisurely route back home, passing spent magnolias and budding redbuds, as well as bleeding hearts, solomon's seal, and forget-me-knots.
[*] It gets even worse. Over dinner I mused about where would be the best place to gather morels. The Old Man said he didn't know where that would be. "Morelia?" I suggested.
I had my misgivings because--as well-documented here--they've managed to screw something up every single time I've been. Yesterday evening was no exception. But, as luck would have it, they managed to screw up only in the most minor ways--like giving me an outdated beer list and then having to tell me the smoked stout I'd ordered wasn't available. One of them was even amusing: For six dollars, they were willing to put fresh morels on anything, so I ordered them for my gnocchi, which showed up morelless. I informed the hypercompetent waiter, who just before he was about to take my plate back said, "Oh, they put them on the meatloaf" (
monshu's entree). I promptly demorelised[*] it and continued eating.The gnocchi were tasty, well sautéed, and not at all gummy. In addition to the morels and some broccoli, they were served with ramps and fiddleheads--exactly the kind of stuff I'd love to be eating if only I had the opportunity to go somewhere and collect it. I've already forgotten what beer I ordered, but it was fruity and belgiany and as lovely as a glass of wine would've been. Eating lightly allowed me to justify dessert--a cake of ground almonds held together with brown butter and topped with Black Dog gelato. (
monshu went for comfort all the way, finishing with the bread pudding.)On the way in, we had passed beds out front of strawberries and what I thought might be gooseberries. So I had a closer look at them on the way out and discovered a surprising array of herbs: sorrel, savory, tarragon, lemon balm, thyme, and a couple others, all of which I imagine must show up in their dishes. The first wave of thunderstorms had passed through at that point so we took a leisurely route back home, passing spent magnolias and budding redbuds, as well as bleeding hearts, solomon's seal, and forget-me-knots.
[*] It gets even worse. Over dinner I mused about where would be the best place to gather morels. The Old Man said he didn't know where that would be. "Morelia?" I suggested.