Seasons by the Sea: Dinner for Swells
I had what I called a “dinner for swells” the other night. “Swell” is a word I learned from Lee Bailey, the cookbook author, lifestyle and entertaining expert, bon vivant, and Bridgehampton resident, a native Louisianan. It is an old-fashioned term used to describe important people you want to impress. In other words, you gotta step up your culinary repertoire. Was I intimidated at the prospect? No, I am never intimidated when it comes to my cooking, but I did want them to have a memorable and thoroughly enjoyable evening.
Here’s where it got tricky. I had already amassed a collection of my greatest hits recipes, sure to please, with quite a few alternate menu options, all insanely delicious. Then I realized that in this day and age, you’ve got to ask: Does anyone have any food allergies/ preferences/things they just can’t or won’t eat?
The flurry of answers threw all of my ideas out the window: no gluten, no dairy, no nuts, no cilantro, no lobster (as if, for eight people!). There goes Michael Rozzi’s (of 1770 House) flounder with green curry sauce; it’s got cilantro, and the recipe just wouldn’t be as good without it. The wild mushroom cakes with avocado pesto and red pepper coulis contained three of the banned ingredients. Turkish zucchini latkes, nope, they have feta and walnuts. Gulp. Another friend helpfully pointed out, “Nobody said ‘no meat,’ you could have an all-meat menu.” Visions of tartare sidecarred by carpaccio, charred steak, and pork tenderloins swirled in my evil imagination. But only ever so briefly, I swear.
Even though I’m a pastry chef, I had already given up on making any kind of soigné dessert. After all, flour and sugar are now considered the devil’s scouring powders, and butter and cream Beelzebub’s emollients. It would have been honey custard with sautéed apples, Calvados, and toasted almonds. . . .
Ironically, I had a friend over the night before who informed me she was on a Dean Ornish diet and could have no oil. Yikes! For that meal I made lacinato kale salad with chopped, spicy beet sauerkraut, apricots, and almonds, some lemony chicken thighs for myself and another guest, and my dieting friend brought pre-baked Japanese sweet potatoes, the most delicious, nutritious revelation ever.
As I set the kitchen table for the swells’ dinner, I noticed the chairs don’t match, the linen napkins are never ironed, and I didn’t have enough real silverware. These things don’t really bother me. I cut some early lilacs and apple blossoms from the backyard and pilfered some daffodils from a nonresident neighbor’s property. It was all quite fetching, if I do say so myself.
For dinner I made Florence Fabricant’s lentils with merguez sausage. The panko breadcrumb and harissa topping would only go on one of the casseroles. A spaghetti squash with parsley and garlic dish would not receive its usual crowning glory of goat cheese before baking. The Spanish chopped salad would have the little bits and bobs of Manchego cheese, chorizo, Marcona almonds, and garlicky croutons on the side. This salad is a party in your mouth with romaine, arugula, sweet red peppers, Vidalia onions, and green apples in a quince paste dressing. I also served the baked Japanese sweet potato that my friend Sandy had turned me on to the night before. I am so enamored of this tuber, I bought extras to give the swells as a parting party favor.
For appetizers I looked for gluten-free crackers that would hopefully taste better than their cardboard packaging. Homemade hummus, olives, and, uh, popcorn, tortilla chips, and rice crackers rounded out that beginning of the meal.
As I chopped and washed and peeled and sauted, the warning label you often see on packaging and restaurant menus kept looping through my head: “This product may have been manufactured in a facility that also processes nuts.” My kitchen is scrupulously clean, but I was uber-conscientious as I scrubbed the almond dust off the cutting board.
Two areas in which I am always completely lacking are the colors on the plate and presentation. Our meal was brown, yellow, and purple and could have passed for a Tuesday night supper at an ashram circa 1968. Sans the merguez, of course. But it was good and my guests did enjoy it, and the conversation was boisterous, stimulating, witty, and fun. For dessert, I kept it simple and healthy: cut up mango and papaya with toasted coconut. Papaya is a bit risky. It is soft and not too sweet with a bubblegum-petroleum scent, but if you can find a good one, try it.
The night after my dinner, I went to some other swell’s party. There was a private chef with a sous chef, the embroidered linens were ironed beyond crispness, the French hand-painted plates matched! There were ramps and chanterelles, white asparagus and frisée, Parmesan crisps, pea shoots, and ribbons of radish pretty enough to adorn Marie Antoinette’s powdered and pomatummed pouffle. Wowzers!
“There is a kind of appealing grace in having the end result of a project, food or otherwise, seemingly brought off without strain,” Lee Bailey once said. So what if my napkins and chairs and silverware didn’t match and my foods were odd colors, my guests had a wonderful time, a healthy meal, and it was a relaxed and comfortable evening. When Richard and Roseanne arrived with a bottle of Domaine du Cayron 2011 Gigondas and said “Jacques Franey said you would like this,” I thought “Jacques Franey knows my name? He remembers what I like?!” By golly, now I feel like a swell!
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