[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid: November 20, 2011]
Ten years ago, Thanksgiving fell early, due to the rigorous calendar logic which governs its arrival. By this time, then, I was plunged into the pre-feast shopping, snaring a wild turkey at Quattro's in the Union Square greenmarket.
I did find time to eat out, though.
The appetizer was a signature of the restaurant: tangy goat cheese ravioli, each little packet topped with caviar and sitting on a cool beetroot sauce. Lovely dish. I followed with veal tenderloin paired with sweetbreads and finished with a bunch of desserts sent out by the kitchen. A '98 Vosne-Romanée was happy with the veal.
For Sunday dinner, New Zealand venison chops. I think I probably found them at the French butcher on Second Avenue. Aged, smelly, and somewhat expensive. I gave them a peppery thyme crust and served them over wild mushrooms in a port reduction. I bet the chestnut purée mentioned in my journal came out of a jar: maybe I made it from scracth, but I have my doubts.
The rarely seen (by me, anyway) Cimonino cheese with some dates to finish the meal.
The only other thing worth mentioning from the week, aside from a doubtless absorbing lecture on Melville at the New York Society Library - about which I remember nothing - was a visit to the Vietnamese restaurant on Third Avenue in the 20's. What's it's name? Oh right, L'Annam. A very sweet meal: sugar cane shrimp, Vietnamese noodles with chicken. Nthing to set the house on fire.
I dipped into Inside the Volcano, the painful story of life with Malcolm Lowry by his first wife, Jan Gabrial, and went soberly to bed. The turkey dozed in its brine.
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