|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Tuesday May 22, 2001
"Marriage is like paying an endless visit in your worst clothes." J.B. Priestly
caviar dish and spoon
|
|
twenty-five years I wanted to take the whole week off. Relax today and prepare for my party. Instead I worked and spent three hours trying to hear a conference room full of people on the other end of the phone. I did leave a little early. Dropped SuRu off to pick up her Honda with its new battery. Dropped another friend off at his house since his truck was in the shop. I relaxed a bit and we got dressed to go join some friends for a twenty-five year anniversary dinner. I found an e-mail when I got home telling me that a far-away friend had just had a malignant brain tumor removed. How sobering such news is, especially when the friend is far away and you can't go visit. A few friends had gathered and we toasted with a 1993 Vintage Veuve Clicquot Rosé. Some dumplings and oysters and beef Satay appetizers showed up, not even on the menu. We were in for a long night of treats. We poured Duckhorn Merlots of various vintages and vineyards, starting with 1986 and moving up to 1983. The first course was a terrine of gorgonzola cheese with bruschetta, watercress and toasted pecans. We started more toasts and told tales of how we knew each other. The soup was astounding. Chilled purée of roasted sugar beets with cinnamon smoked quail, crème fraîche and pepper papaya. Sounds weird. Tasted wonderful. The tales continued. Airline snafus, the Whitman shootings. The foie gras arrived next. The incredibly rich morsels of the Hudson Valley stuff with a morelo cherry gastrique. That would have been sufficient but the entrées arrived. I'd chosen the rack of Colorado lamb with roasted eggplant purée, asparagus-romano risotto and oven-dried tomatoes. Even on the heels of the foie gras, this tasted impossibly wonderful. Around me, the other guests enjoyed salmon and beef and duck. We marched down to 1983 on the Duckhorn Merlots as we ate. Someone had suggested that I order the vanilla bean Crème Brûlée on orders from someone, SuRu or Forrest. I ate some of it. I think Forrest had the rest. A phalanx of dessert wines including a Sauterne, a Framboise and a Late Harvest Reisling. We opened our gifts along there somewhere. Tickets to the New Texas Festival, a caviar dish and spoon decorated up to look full of ice and with seeds standing in for caviar. The spoon with a silver fish handle. A beutiful handmade card with Leann Womack's I Hope You Dance beautifully caligraphied on it. A nice bottle of wine. And, of course, the lovely food and wonderful service provided way above and beyond by Zoot. We couldn't have paid them enough. SuRu, of course, had kindly driven us to the event in the Honda CR/V limousine. She deposited us at home. Twenty-five years. It seems long and it seems short. I've been married almost half my life. A good portion of my adult life. It's been great comfort and fun. There have been down times to share, joys, puzzles. I feel I'm a pretty together individual. And yet I'd be nothing somehow without FFP. It's nice. And scary.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
