Last night nine beautiful people came over to my house to discuss Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, drink an aperitif and good wine and eat a meal that I prepared.
If ya'll haven't read A Moveable Feast, you should -- particularly if you're a writer or a lover of wine or food or Paris. I practically ate the book itself, and I've never been a Hemingway-lovah.
Here's my menu:
(vermouth, creme de cassis and soda water)
Puff Pastry with Caramelized Onions, Anchovies and Black Olives
Camembert with Crackers
Soupe au Pistou
(Hearty vegetable soup with pesto)
Coq au Vin
Endive Salad with Lemon Vinaigrette
French Apple Tart with Creme Fraiche
Here are some pictures:
I have to say that my French Apple Tart was the piece de resistance (without accents that looks really, really bad). I don't bake as much as I used to, and while I trained under some amazing pastry chefs in New York City, it's been some time. I've forgotten how much I love to make pastry dough and assemble something beautiful. Like other good things happening in my life, classic pastry is at my fingertips. I apparently haven't lost my touch and I'm grateful for that. A moveable feast --
Oh la la.