Yesterday we ate a lot of cheese. Cheese for dessert after lunch, cheese for dessert after Bacon and Bourbon. Nothing says romance like coagulated milk protein!
Turns out that the Mast Brother Black Truffle bar was sold with a very special Valentine’s Day pairing: Coach Farms truffle-stuffed goat cheese. Absolutely extraordinary — and way sexier than a heart-shaped box o’ chocolates.
Ya did good, babe.
We busted into some of the Vday chocolate last night. The bar has gorgeous truffle flavor that pairs beautifully with Shinn’s Petit Verdot. Nicely done, Mast Brothers (but hurry if you want a bar of your own, this is only for the holiday).
By course five, I was not, for the record, “so over truffles,” as a certain dear friend of mine has claimed to be (sacrilege, in my book). But I was glad for a palate-soothing dessert of apples, yogurt gelato, and a crisp with the subtle flavor of cheddar. A clever take on good ol’ apple pie.
And if your lunch-time tummy can take more truffletastic temptation, you must check out Annie’s (of Frites & Fries) in-the-kitchen perspective. She’s really got a way with a camera.
And for the final savory course, something I could not eat every day (damn vanity): Iowa Farms pork loin and belly, the former cooked sous-vide (I think), the latter roasted. With heirloom fingerlings, pearl onions, rossini sauce, and a foie gras emulsion.
The shower of shaved white truffles just made the whole thing stupidly decadent and awesome. This is not something you’d see on a menu (as M. pointed out), where truffles usually appear in the first course with a delicate protein, like egg. No. Pork belly plus foie gras plus truffles is for serious-to-the-point-where-there-might-be-a-problem pleasure seekers only.
For the third course, Atlantic halibut, celery puree, and seared romaine in a black truffle vinaigrette with a riot of truffle shavings to finish.
I could eat this every day.
First course was my favorite: delicate fried sweetbreads with black trumpet puree and black truffles in a bath of chestnut velouté so silky it would make Monsieur Escoffier turn a jig.
Every course featured truffle, save for dessert. Truffle oil lent its earthy grace to an amouse bouche of uni, scallop, and citrus.
A dinner devoted to truffles begins with the presentation of the guests of honor, which were so fragrant they alarmed the FedEx guy who delivered them. “What the hell you got in that box, man?”
M’s white selection for Chef Santos’ truffle dinner tonight. While Jessica’s taking care of the red, he’s also got a 1990 Robert Ampeau Volnay Grand Crus in reserve. Y’know. Just in case.
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