Apres ski

December 30, 2006 on 2:48 pm | By | In Train to Eat | Comments Off on Apres ski

Ever since our Thanksgiving in Whistler my darling has been jonesing for ski time. An avid skier since he was a toddler, he revels in pirouetting down the slopes — the steeper the better. But lest you think him a ski prima donna, he skis on the oldest, crappiest equipment he can find (although he did have to replace his $3 yard sale Caper boots he bought in 1987 as they finally bit the dust, er, snow, in Whistler. He’s still debating whether to replace his 20+ year-old Spalding skis. Yes, Spalding. You know, the manufacturer of basketballs, baseballs, soccer balls and volleyballs).

While I’m quick to wrangle him for a run — the longer the better — when it comes to skiing I’m a wuss. I learned to ski late in life, so I never developed a true love for the sport. Besides, the last time I was at Whistler I was dragged off the mountain with a broken ankle (sliding head-first down the slopes on a ski patrol sled is not an experience I care to revisit). Broken limbs = loss of income; NOT a good way to start off the New Year.

Fortunately for my darling, his good friend is in town and he too was jonesing for a few runs down the slopes. However, they picked the same day that I had planned a romantic dinner featuring the oh-so-decadent treats I received as a gift. “Never fear,” my darling assured, “we’ll be back in plenty of time.”

Knowing my darling though, I admonished him not to stop for burgers and beer afterward, as that would cut into our romantic dinner time. However, he interpreted my admonitions as, “Don’t spoil your appetite!” He came home at the appointed hour — completely famished — only to find this awaiting him:Caviar

Sure, he was extremely appreciative for the effort I made (the brioche toast points, blini and crème fraîche were all prepared from scratch). And the antipasta platter with his favorite cheese — Papillon Roquefort — was a pure delight. He slurped down a dozen and a half oysters (with my home-made iced Pomegranate mignonette sauce) with gusto, and dove into the crackers and truffle mousse pâté.

I was thoroughly sated by this scrumptious meal, so it didn’t dawn on me that my darling would still be hungry. (A silver dollar-sized blini with a dollop of crème fraîche and caviar DOESN’T fill you up after an entire day of skiing? Who’da thunk it?)

Fortunately I had prepared a big ol’ pot of beans & rice a couple of days ago, so after scarfing down a bowl of ’em, he finally was sated (although I think he may have snuck a few more hunks of brioche & Papillon after I had fallen asleep).

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