Far Out

Fall                                                                           Samhain Moon

Jazz at Barbette.  Kate and I have begun to go, every once in a while, to the jazz and dinner combinations co-ordinated by Kevin Barnes of KBEM.  Tonight the meal was at Barbette and the music, jazz guitar, by his brother, Brian Barnes.

If you’ve not been to Barbette, it’s a stainglass lights, art of many qualities on the walls kind of place coupled with the sort of small, but beautiful presentations that mean you’ve just paid a lot for the meal. Tables are set somewhat close together and there was, at least tonight, a genuine air of bonhomie.  The wait staff are quick, delicate and attentive.

Each course had a different craft or Belgian beer associated with it so I passed mine to Kate.  The first, a Duvel, came with the pretzel course.  Never have I seen pretzels so daintily and prettily presented and accompanied by a hot mustard sauce, a shallot marmalade and a wonderful gouda cheese sauce.  Tasty.

The second, a Maredsous, came with gravlax, collard greens and small discs of grits. Sounds weird, but it was pretty good.  The third, a Chouffe, graced a strange and new food experience for me, pork belly.  Now when I say pork belly you may think of bacon but in this case I believe they cut a square section out of a pork belly and cooked it.  I have a very broad palate, more gourmand than gourmet, and I like most things, but this had way too much fat for my taste.  And, of course, I didn’t have the Chouffe to wash it down with. Quel domage.

The final dish was a deconstructed smore with a square of marshmallow topped by a scatter of broken nuts, a tablespoon size and shape piece of ice cream all on a swoosh of chocolate. Outside my low to no carb emphasis, as was the pretzel, but I went ahead anyway.  Pretty good.

We had a university lecturer and her husband, a businessman and his wife, and two militant atheists, one of whom worked for the health insurance industry at our table.

In these settings I find listening to conversation can be a challenge though Barbette wasn’t terrible.

A fun evening.  Oh, and every one said oh! when they asked where we were from and we said Andover.  “So far.”  “That’s a ways.”

 

 

Go Now, The Growing Season Has Ended

Fall                                                                          Samhain Moon

Today chain saw bar and dental hygiene.  Real gritty home stuff.  A bit more Latin, of course.  My paperweight is still in the annealer.  Cooling down.  I can get it Wednesday.  It will sit next to my Father’s Day mug I made at Northern Clay Center.  Back to kindergarten only now I’m making my projects for myself.  Is this the beginning of the second childhood I’ve heard so much about?

The hosta and coleus have all gathered in on themselves, drooping in that post-frost finale.  As the Minnesota Updraft Blog said:  The Growing Season Ends.  It ended for us here last week when we pulled the tomato plants, the egg plants, the beets and the last of the greens.  Frost bit plants look hurt, their cell walls burst by ice, what was contained now loose and sharp.

This is the way the growing season ends, not with a bang, but a droop.