Vacation Station

Off to Seattle, I go...I'm reminded of the first time I ever ate oysters, it was in Vancouver and I fell in love at first bite. The briny, silky flavor became one of a couple few addictions which include bacon, pork belly, caffeine, and sweet sweet gin.

Some of my favorite oysters:

Little Bays

Coleville Bays

That is all.

A couple of my favorite ways to eat oysters:

Freshly shucked, nothing on them.

What can I say, I'm a purist, I like most things in their raw form, with no sauces, or seasoning. I love steak tartar, I love salmon tartar, I prefer sashimi to sushi. And I like my oysters raw on the half shell.

Eating a raw oyster, is nothing more than a trip down memory lane. I find most peoples favorite oysters are strongly connected to their childhood, and their memories of jumping into the ocean, and accidentally swallowing a mouthful of salty, briny sea water.

However for those who enjoy dinner parties, and fancifying things that don't need to be fancified.

You can make oyster shooters:

Simple:

Take a shot glass, fill with champagne, shuck an oyster into champagne shot.

Take a shot glass, fill with guiness, shuck an oyster into guiness shot

Take a shot glass, fill with bloody caesar mix, and gin, and a shucked oyster.

They're fun to look at, fun to eat, and a great way to introduce people to oysters.

Blazing Salads

brussels sprout salad with lemon bacon vinaigrette, add some wild mushrooms and a hint of tarragon, shaved peccorino to garnish, frisee and rocket

It's not just your waiter that hates you:

Top Ten Favorite Customer Comments/Actions/Questions:

10. Is the walk-in a controlled atmosphere?

9. Why does this lobster taste like it's been in salt water?

8. What is ox tail?

7. I refuse to eat this salmon...it's pink

6. What kind of vegetable is a quail?

5. (kitchen location maine) Is the Alaskan king crab local?

4. "What kind of wood do you use?" "a mixture of hard woods" "YOU DON'T KNOW" "okay"

3. I'd like my steak rare, with no blood

2. I'm allergic to chicken

1. I'd like half of my steak cooked rare and the other half well done.

The sandbox: a love story

I don't mean for this to be an overly emotional, sappy post about how we met and fell in love...it's mostly to explain a few things...such as, how does a professional cook live and love a man who puts an excess of cinnamon in his clam batter? flour his steak? make banana omelettes? turkey blue cheese and pickle sandwiches? blue cheese teriyaki chicken?
We met in a sandbox, technically we met before then. Technically our mothers were friends before we even existed.
Here would be an ideal spot for an old picture of the two of us eating mud pies, but I'm afraid we were too busy to ever sit still for a picture.
Instead I've added this picture, of random children eating random mud pies that i pulled from the internet. I doubt we were this cute.
At the age of ten, just when boys might maybe stop having cooties, my family moved to Montreal. My man and I stayed in touch via email, and from Montreal we moved to Cleveland, from Cleveland, I went to college, to culinary school, to Paris, to dropping out of culinary school to Montreal, to Cleveland, and finally back to Maine.
We're back to our old routine, of goofing off, acting childish, and playing in the sandbox (or the sand).

Needless to say it's hard not to love someone you've known forever, who makes you laugh and who reeks of creativity...whether it comes in the form of swingsets that turn into time machines or raw oyster omelettes.

Bienvenue

A brief introduction to the blog:

Blog, this is people. People this is blog. I've failed at blogs before, but this time I'd like to really make a commitment. I'd like to go steady.

I'm a cook and have been for 10 years, that is until I was diagnosed with tendinitis, the wimpiest of handicaps. However wimpy it may be, it has threatened to ruin my career of chopping, pan twirling and cast iron pan lifting. I've been reduced to yelling (expediting), and threatening to cut off my right hand to include go go gadget attachments complete with tool belt: whisk attachment, cleaver attachment, tong attachment...you know, the necessities.

In the midst of my inspector gadget daydreams, and general moping, my boyfriend attempted to comfort me with the following text: "let me cook for awhile, tonight I made a banana omelette with cheddar, and hot sauce!!!"

I've never been so determined to heal, so that I may once again cook...and not eat banana omelettes.

Then again...I'm still not opposed to a go go gadget arm.