The last time Christine and Chuck visited, Chuck said something to the effect of, “I’d rather eat anything that someone I know made for me than go to a restaurant any day.”  It made me stop and think a minute and I decided that, almost every time, I would agree with him.  There is something about food that someone chooses to make for you – no matter what it is – that tastes especially satisfying. Luckily, my gracious friends pretty much feel the same way, or at least they make every attempt to appear that way.  Even when a dish comes out badly (overcooked meat or vegetables, a half-risen cake), I’ve had the luck of seeing smiling faces and clean plates.

When I asked the Bun what he wanted for his birthday dinner – mainly, whether he wanted to go out or stay in – he gave me a little look that said, “would you mind cooking for me?”  Of course, I was pleased with his answer.  After deliberating on a menu for a few days, I decided on a bit of inspiration in the form of pork rillettes, which is basically like a meaty, fatty spread you eat on bread.  It is, of course, French.  A French meal, of course!

As I do, and as many of my cooker friends do, I consulted several sources in an effort to find a good, simple recipe for the rillettes, including Julia Child’s cookbooks, Epicurious, and a clever site that is new to me called The Paupered Chef, which is brilliant.  The rest of the menu fell into place from there, knowing that the Bun would want Strawberry Pie for his birthday dessert, and knowing that I wanted to make steak, have a cheese course (simple, domestic Brie) and a salad course (endive with walnuts and an amazing local Amish blue cheese).

In the end, it came together pretty well.  I even made wine pairings, serving Kir Royale with the rillettes, a dry rose with the salad, and a young red with the steak (which I served with boiled potatoes that I sauteed in butter and some simply steamed green beans).

So, for the next birthday, anniversary, or celebration in your life, consider making a meal that you would like to eat yourself and I guarantee your guests will appreciate it.  Multi-course serving is, of course, optional.  =)

Contrary to the advice of our local weather forecasters, I ventured out into the morning air wearing no wool and only a jean jacket for protection against the elements.  To be sure, I am glad I did so.  Though only a few days ago, I saw some wet flurries, it appears that spring is returning to the frigid Midwest.

We’re hoping to see the farmers’ markets open soon with local, fresh ingredients, but we also have our beloved Treasure Island just down the street; they always have good looking produce, though the carbon footprint is probably pretty high.  We continue to try and do our best on an environmental level, but sometimes the bright green asparagus and red, red strawberries are too tempting to pass up.  I apologize to future generations in advance.

Per the weather’s prompting, I am making Salad Nicoise this evening for dinner.  I am not sure who taught me to make it (I have a feeling it was Christine), but it is usually the first big salad I make to celebrate the return of spring weather.  One year when I was living with the girls, I came home from work expecting no one to be around, but my roommate Alexis was there and we decided to have dinner together (which was rare, for some reason).  I sneaked down to the shop to pick up some Coronas (she’s wasn’t a big wine drinker then) and we had a fabulous, celebratory meal in the middle of a late-April week – such a favorite memory.  What is it about the combination of food and friends that makes for such distinct memories?  The funny part about it is that it doesn’t just happen – not every meal is so memorable.  Surely, there is some psychology to it, but simply put, I think it is all about the right food at the right time.  I guess it is something we’ll need to observe throughout the years.