Le Menu (you supply the fun French accent) is specially designed to be knocked out after tonight’s 7pm symphony rehearsal. I sincerely hope we can consume the vast majority of it before the stroke of midnight, because I'm not entirely sure how the Mayans accounted for that whole time zone thing.
Seared Foie Gras* with spicy apricot thyme compote on crouton, Jean Albrecht 2010 Alsatian Gewürztraminer
Steamed Lobsters,* fresh green salad, artisan bread, Lous Bouillot Grande Reserve Perle de Vigne Sparkling Wine (need I mention the vast quantities of melted butter?)
Cheese Course - it took some discipline to skip it, but I figured with the late hour, my guests might be flagging. In the end, my European culinary sensibilities revolted, and I pulled some gorgonzola out of the fridge for at least a bite before dessert.
Eight-layer Thunderbolt Dobos Torte (the extra layer for luck?), coffee
Tres snooty, n'est-ce pas?
|Four more layers hiding in the background, but the proportions would have been just silly! I left it at eight, plus the caramel end-of-the-world decor.|
|Okay, so it's the end of the world for someone.|
|Surely there will be thunderbolts (and scary Mexican masks) when the moment arrives, no?|
|The deconstruction begins. Now I know I can safely stab the lightening INTO the cake. I'll do it that way next time the world threatens to end.|
What would you eat for your final meal? And, more importantly, with which special people would you spend your final hours? It’s an enlightening question. My own answer surprised me.
If the world does end, I'll be happy not to pay the terrifying charges on my Mastercard incurred by this dinner. If the world doesn’t end, I’ve got an excellent plan for the weekend. Leftovers.
* Yes. I said it. Live lobsters and foie gras. Concerned about animal cruelty? There’s a heck of a lot more in your average grocery store egg, even before you consider the sheer numbers of commercial laying hens. (News flash - “free range" ain’t what you think. Read about it.) And yes, every single one of the thirteen eggs in the torte was from a happy pastured hen and “certified humane.”
EDIT 12/22/12 - So, yeah, the world didn't end. I updated a few things on this post, including actually giving you a photo of the finished cake. It also means I still might see my Ducati again, which is in the shop at the moment.