Smoooth Potatoes

We greatly savored the opportunity to spend the last weekend with our daughter and son-in-law.

Food, the preparation and savoring of, has become a centerpiece of these happy reunions, and this one was no exception.  I came equipped with some Cantal cheese in the interests of testing a recipe for the French mashed-potato concoction known as aligot, which I came upon in my reading of Peter Mayle's "French Lessons," this book a gift from my mother-in-law.  Basically just potatoes, garlic, and cheese.  But some of the smoothest, most succulent potatoes I've ever savored.

These became an accompaniment to Sean's pork-stuffed cabbage rolls, also a new venture.  Mara has a major cameo here, she not being afflicted with knife-wounds as was hubby.  It would have been nice to be equipped with the juniper berries the roll recipe called for, but these came out quite well even without.  Yum all around, but plating hour was later than we would have liked.

Not one to sit on his haunches, on Sunday Sean concocted some filbert-crusted halibut steaks, making use of the results of his fishing expedition last September in BC.  Based on his mention of risotto as possible side dish, I scurried through cookbooks, eventually settling on Cook's ("The New Best Recipe") mushroom recipe which required adaption based on the supplies available in the local store (i.e., no dried porcini) but seemed to be well-received with my improvisations.

It was a working weekend for Mara and Sean, as they had signed up to sell their Scentsy products at a venue in Kalama on Friday and Saturday.  Marg helped out on Saturday, freeing up Sean, but it was still a bit wearing from what I could tell.  By Monday, Sean was clearly well off his fettle, exhibiting all the signs of a flu sufferer (at least we hoped it was no more than that).  He made a bee-line for the doctor while I was assigned responsibility for preparing chicken-noodle soup, that classic make-well dish. 

I was right back at Cook's (pp 36-7).  It was evident that extracting the chicken essence was the primary goal.  I was scrupulous in attending to the recipe's instructions, the stress level up with patient visibly withering only a few yards away.  I'm proud to say I carved that whole chicken up within sight of my butcher-in-law, in anticipation of throwing the whole mess into a couple quarts of water.  Had he been hale, I know he would have offered some coaching.  Alas I was so preoccupied that I have no visuals.

We also spent a lot of time on fabric issues over the course of the weekend.  One Portland outlet has laid claim to being the largest fabric store on the West Coast, and I have no basis for disagreeing.  It was pretty overwhelming.  Even I had to purchase some fabric, sort of in self-defense.  The others were less shy, given the generous sale that was underway.  But from what my addled brain recalls, we visited at least three other fabric and craft outlets before the handcuffs came off.