My Daughters Won’t Share
I thought they had been raised better than this, but my daughters won’t share. I’ll explain.
We went to the Philadelphia Art Museum on Sunday to see the Roberto Capucci Art Into Fashion exhibit, which turned out to be even better than I expected. It wasn’t as much a fashion exhibit as an art exhibit. Plus, the museum did a wonderful job showcasing the colors and forms of the Capucci fashions with great lighting. To complete our perfect outing we had lunch at our favorite Greek restaurant in the area.
We began with two appetizer plates, stuffed grape leaves and eggplant dip, both with warm, fresh pitas. Then it was gyro sandwiches all around. Finally, after filling up on the first two courses it was time for dessert. The last time we all ate at this restaurant Annie, always the renegade, ordered her own fruit sorbet and the rest of us shared a piece of baklava. This time Annie ordered the same sorbet that would be all her own, but this time Louisa refused to share a baklava slice. This is the same baklava that we’ve been dreamily remembering for months. The one that has the delicious, buttery layers of crisp filo dough, the crunchy walnuts, the oozing honey syrup. And she wouldn’t share a piece of baklava with me. No, Louisa insisted on ordering a piece for herself. I couldn’t blame her as I placed my own order.
Blame it on the Truffle Salt
I usually have a very simple cereal, fruit and coffee breakfast in the morning. But there was this fabulous truffle salt sitting on my counter that I received as a gift last weekend, and it’s been patiently, patiently waiting for me. This morning it ran out of patience and demanded that I do something with it. Therefore I was forced to break routine and cook for myself a sunny side over egg and challah toast, both sprinkled with truffle salt. I felt so very continental as I sat there savoring my breakfast with the sun streaming in the kitchen. Too bad the rest of the family missed the moment – they never would have recognized me.
Fancy Food on a Weeknight
Last night’s meal was chicken crepes with asparagus. Can you think of a weeknight meal that comes any fancier than that? While whisking up my crepe batter I could sense the ghost of Julia Child looking on approvingly behind my shoulder. The crepes could have been thinnner, but my skill at making them is a little rusty since it’s been maybe ten years (or more) since my last crepe endeavor. But still, they were so good.
This recipe called for store bought crepes, but my store didn’t have them. So what’s an extra ten minutes to whip them up fresh? Nothing much when it comes to making fancy food for dinner.
And for the curious, the filling was a mixture of shredded chicken (I did use the rotisserie kind to save time), ricotta cheese, grated parmesan, fresh herbs, salt and pepper. The sauce was a blend of shallots, chicken broth and butter, in true French style. Asparagus are in season so they were especially tasty and tender. It was a 3 out of 4 recipe, namely the majority enjoyed it except for Annie. She took issue with the bit of sweetness in the crepe recipe that I used. Still, she ate it.
Since it was the rare night that Joe came home early from work, namely by 6:30, he helped by shredding the chicken. But the whole dinner, crepes and all, took under an hour to prepare. Not bad at all for fancy food on a weeknight.