The Aftermath... January 27

 New Years Eve has never quite done it for me. May have something to do with having worked so many of them over some 30-plus years in food, but... The idea of capturing so much in one evening, that's a lot to expect. A while back Katie and I began a twist on it: a dinner to welcome the new year, in January after all the dust has settled from the holiday craze. So it was on a Sunday recently that we gathered with guests for the first repas of the new slate, a chance to celebrate what we intend to be a good year. Now my wife has long stated, never making a secret of it, that her food is not "precious". Unwavering is her approach that it should be simple and clean... embraceable. For this meal, she did the opposite.
 Oh, it did begin easy enough as people lined the table set beside a warm fire: an amuse bouche of two perfect Miyagi oysters, tapped lightly with a mignonette. Then she dressed up a soup of puréed cauliflower with Brussel sprout leaves fried in olive oil, and topped in local salmon roe. For these, a rich, yeasty crèment was poured. Bubbles, clinking glasses, and laughter to mark a fresh calendar. Switching to an even Rully, it was on to a lightly warm salad of shaved turnip, yam, beets, and carrot tossed with strips of crispy salmon skin and handfuls of lightly tossed watercress. Earthy, crunchy, and sweet were the vegetables balancing the salted fish flavor of the skin;  a sort of bacon of the sea.

 Logs were added to the fire, and the soft winter light demanded candles be lit. A surprisingly layered and structured Saint-Peray (considering it was 100% marsanne) by the talented Rhône Valley trio at Les Vin de Viennes was chosen for the lobster to come, having really enjoyed their syrah at Thanksgiving. By now you may have noticed that whites ruled the meal. A novelty for us, but true to the menu. The lobster tails were sliced into fat rounds, plated, and hit with a bit of a Meyer lemon beurre blanc. Claws were cracked and added to the plate, as were a soft scramble of eggs hit with a grate of truffle before being put back in their shell, mounted on course salt. Found myself pausing mid way through this, a moment to take in the richness of the dish, elegant yet balanced. More wine was needed, giving me a chance to platter the small "legs" which a guest had discretely asked about. Soon, with seemingly the whole table rendered silent except for the cracking and sucking noises, I had to laugh that we hadn't thought of adding them before. A lighter turn was made to a bright sauvignon blanc from the Loire, young goat and sheep's milk cheeses were chosen with this in mind, as the plates of little red leaf lettuces arrived. (The hoped for "little gems" proved too elusive at the morning's market.)

 The mood tends to dictate the length of the repas, and this one stretched good and long. It was in part why we decided recently to move the start time closer to the middle of the day, so guests wouldn't feel the need to rush back home having to prepare for the coming Monday. Kate's fluffy and moist olive oil cake arrived, tangy and sweet candied tangerines spilling over the whipped cream top, a cooked down dark rum pooling about the plate. Yes to coffee, cognac, and another log! This will be a damn fine year!!!



Chez Gautier Cooking School: http://www.chez-gautier.com