Marvelous Condiments at a Delightful Wedding
I have been remiss in my duties the last couple days, but I was trying to figure out some of my template issues so all *my* profile information doesn't appear at the bottom. I'm still working on it.
In the meantime, I left my family behind and flew down to California for a wedding. This was a family wedding in the truest, extended meaning of the word. I grew up on a wonderful block in Oakland named Echo. The families were/are all close. We have wild Christmas celebrations every year involving high-stakes charades and an embarrassment of desserts.
One of the younger sons of the block got married today. He and his now-wife have known each other for 20 years and have a beautiful 2 year old son. It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony. A brass band played us up a mountain to the reception. Toasts were made, wine was drunk and crab and bean cakes were served with remoulade. Oh yeah, baby, REMOULADE. I knew then that John had made a good choice in a future wife.
Remoulade doesn't sound like a sauce or a condiment really. It sounds like a bid to start an orgy or something. It's a sexy, sultry word and I expect a plump-armed courtesan to enter her crowded salon and shout "Remoulade" to let everyone know to begin partying in earnest.
The crab cakes were fine, but they perked right up when slathered in the roasted red peppery mayonnaise like mixture. A bite of a crab cake, a burst of spicy oil, a sip of wine and the witnessing of true love. It was truly a fine day.
And then, for dinner, they served cornbread with a spicey mango sauce. Needless to say, I put the mango sauce on more than it was intended for. I danced like a madwoman for a couple hours, then, when I got a little nippy, I scavenged a piece of cornbread and filled a endive leaf with some fresh salsa and the mango sauce so I could enjoy all the condiments together. It was sort of my condiment McGyver impression because they had taken away all the plates.
After dancing to Snoop Doggy Dog, we took our leave, the wine and mango sauce buzzing happily in our system.
REMOULADE
Condiment Grrl
In the meantime, I left my family behind and flew down to California for a wedding. This was a family wedding in the truest, extended meaning of the word. I grew up on a wonderful block in Oakland named Echo. The families were/are all close. We have wild Christmas celebrations every year involving high-stakes charades and an embarrassment of desserts.
One of the younger sons of the block got married today. He and his now-wife have known each other for 20 years and have a beautiful 2 year old son. It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony. A brass band played us up a mountain to the reception. Toasts were made, wine was drunk and crab and bean cakes were served with remoulade. Oh yeah, baby, REMOULADE. I knew then that John had made a good choice in a future wife.
Remoulade doesn't sound like a sauce or a condiment really. It sounds like a bid to start an orgy or something. It's a sexy, sultry word and I expect a plump-armed courtesan to enter her crowded salon and shout "Remoulade" to let everyone know to begin partying in earnest.
The crab cakes were fine, but they perked right up when slathered in the roasted red peppery mayonnaise like mixture. A bite of a crab cake, a burst of spicy oil, a sip of wine and the witnessing of true love. It was truly a fine day.
And then, for dinner, they served cornbread with a spicey mango sauce. Needless to say, I put the mango sauce on more than it was intended for. I danced like a madwoman for a couple hours, then, when I got a little nippy, I scavenged a piece of cornbread and filled a endive leaf with some fresh salsa and the mango sauce so I could enjoy all the condiments together. It was sort of my condiment McGyver impression because they had taken away all the plates.
After dancing to Snoop Doggy Dog, we took our leave, the wine and mango sauce buzzing happily in our system.
REMOULADE
Condiment Grrl
posted by CondimentGrrl at 12:20 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home