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| Veal shell steak cooked in hay, with pan fried gnudi, half-sour pickled asparagus, chanterelle mushrooms, crispy onions, and bacon glace |
So this morning as I slid down the icy hill in our parking lot at work, I had no idea that I would inspire myself, or have an epiphany of any sort today. Just an average, late winter/early spring day that feels much more like Winter, than Spring. As we started preparing for this week's menu, all I could think was,
"Man! I wrote some menu items with no vibrancy in color..."
Which was the exact opposite of what I tried to do: my theme to this weekend's menu was "wishful thinking" when I wrote it. And I wanted to capture the vibrancy and essence of Spring. Heading into lineup, all I could picture in my head was these plates full of drab, dull colors...
And then the moment of truth...
The first plate was mushroom ravioli with mushroom broth, chanterelle, shiitake, and white beech mushrooms, roasted zucchini-sunflower seed pesto, aged gouda, and pea shoots.
It was f*@king delicious...and monotone...and looked like the first shoots, and runners of Spring emerging from the slowly warming earth. "Neat," was all I could think to myself..."maybe I didn't miss the mark by too much."
Then the bone-in veal strip steak pictured above. A plate of ocher and earth-tones, and muted green asparagus, (from the pickling).
Snap a picture.
Move on to the next plate.
But, as I stared at the picture which I initially HATED it started to grow on me...
In fact, I think that I have inadvertently captured Spring! Ocher and earth-tones representing the recently exposed earth, revealed by the melting snow. The onions and the mushrooms are like the fallen leaves from last autumn that remain on the ground. And the asparagus, not quite the bright green of spring, but still muted as if it was just emerging from its long winter's nap and pushing its way up through the leaves on the forest floor.
So despite my missing my intended target of a "Spring menu," I may have come closer than I thought. My attempt to capture the changing of the season was successful on a much more subtle level than my usual ham-fisted way: conceptual more than literal.
Another season. Another corner turned.
