I can't begin to tell you how happy it makes me to say that autumn has descended upon us. Although dear Father Time may not agree with me, there are a few things contrary to the calendar that make me think otherwise. First, kids are going back to school and with that come fond memories of buying new school supplies, wearing your newest, favorite clothes and deciding how you had reinvented yourself enough over the summer to present yourself as a changed person. I have also begun to notice that leaves are falling and dusk is creeping in earlier and earlier.
With the idea of Fall comes the promise of good things to come. Pumpkins need to be picked, cashmere sweaters pulled out of the closet and worn with a beloved scarf. Caramel apple cider tempts you and suggests that you might want a slice of pecan pie with whipped cream while you are at it. But, most of all, Fall means cooking.
There is nothing more seductive to me than the ritual of cooking a gourmet meal. From the moment I put on my cherished Dean and Delucca apron and tie a hand towel through the loop, I enter the arena as Chef Flay and my regular existence gets put away in the closet for the night. I put on a little jazz music to start (Ella being the perennial favorite), pull out my cutting board (my new, hot pink one from Crate and Barrel being my current favorite), and reach for the melange of ingredients needed to make my masterpiece.
In thinking about my re-entry into the cooking arena, I began to think about the meaning of cooking. I'm not talking about it's definition or even need, I'm talking about the little rituals that we associate with food. From the requisite barbeque on Fourth of July to the traditional pheasant at Christmas, Americans have always associated socializing with food. In fact, we've built an entire 3 day holiday around it: Thanksgiving!
The kind of ritual that I am thinking about though, is Sunday dinner. When I was first married I had every Sunday off and I vowed to myself that I was going to make a nice dinner every Sunday, that we would use the china, and that we would turn off the t.v. and eat at the dining room table. That fantasy lasted 1 Sunday. The reality turned out that we would pick up something and bring it back home, like Marie Callenders. Most often we would eat dinner in the living room from the coffee table. And instead of talking about our day, we would turn on the t.v. and allow the Simpsons and Family Guy to lull us into a lazy stupor. This wasn't every Sunday, but it certainly wasn't once in a while either.
Because I had Sunday off again and for once didn't have plans to see anyone, I decided I would resume my place in the kitchen, dust off the old knife block and tip my hat to the typical Sunday dinner.
Originally planning to make a whole roasted chicken with a side of roasted vegetables cooked in the dripping from the bird, I instead decided to stay in the vein of poultry, while not having to marinade and brine my dinner for 3-4 hours before cooking could even commence.
I poured over the Williams Sonoma website and found a salivating recipe for braised chicken with mushrooms cooked in a sherry reduction. With a shopping list in hand, I set out for the grocery store.
Have you ever shopped for whole, fresh fennel before? I hadn't until yesterday. Let me tell you, it was the most adult thing that I have shopped for in a long time. I picked up the long stemmed produce and set out to pick out the other ingredients that I would need to make the small salad that I would be serving with said chicken.
Getting home, I unpacked my motley group of ingredients and set out to make my dinner. The salad began with fresh arugula, radicchio, and spinach. I then added in a diced red pear, tiny pieces of prosciutto and then added in shaved fennel and freshly grated parmesan. For the final touch, a pear and rice vinegar vinaigrette was seasoned and swirled within my new Williams Sonoma dressing emulsifier.
With the salad made, it was time to move on to the main course. The chicken was cleaned and heavily seasoned with salt and fresh, ground pepper. The chicken was then added to the frying pan and left to cook on both sides within a buttery bath. Then the chicken was removed and more butter was added in along with the onions, mushrooms, dry sherry and worcestershire. Finally the chicken was added back in and served over a bed of egg noodles.
The salad was laid out on the dainty, china salad plates, the dinner was served on the formal, dinner plate, a bottle of full bodied, buttery Chardonnay was chilled, uncorked and poured, and Sean and I sat down for dinner at the coffee table and watched Simpsons and Family Guy. Four years of marriage and we were finally at home.
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