The Meal
Last Sunday Cakes and I had a few good friends (CRW, Joan and Kevin), and a bottle or two of nice Australian red, around for a simple, but moorish, roast dinner of garlic mashed potatoes, spiced and succulent roast chicken, a simple red and yellow tomato salad and a berry and nut crumble. Nothing warms the heart more on a cold winter night that s few good friends, a nice dark red and a warm roast dinner.
We started off with a warm dense and crusty brown loaf from the Italian centre shop paired with a beautiful black olive tapenade and homemade marinated Lebanese soft cheese called Labanya (or Labna, or Lebne...whatever) for spreading. The saltiness of the tapenade and the creamy, garlicky tang of the labna were perfect on the soft, brown slices. It was gone in a matter of seconds.
The roast was juicy and gorgeous – crispy and brown on the outside and plump and flavourful on the inside. I made the roast in my usual manner with an offensive amount of butter, homemade chicken stock, a ‘secret’ spice blend, onions and garlic and baste like a mad-woman. I think it was the best one yet, despite the fact that it was not [gasp] an organic free-ranger, like I usually buy. Maybe it was that I left out the half bottle of white wine I traditionally add? I don’t know. But it was certainly comfort-food heaven.
My husband, who has been previously relieved of his chicken-carving duties due to his uncontrollable need to pick at any roast chicken within a half-mile radius, managed to sneak past me a number of times to steal little bits. I must learn to seat him at the farthest end of the table from the kitchen next time.
The mashed potatoes too were a resounding success - creamy and nutty-garlicky without being too rich. Bits of dark red skin dotted throughout. It’s been a very long time indeed since I peeled a potato for anything. As always, I passed over the $30, very posh, square-holed potato masher for the $3 s-curve version that does a far superior job. It thoroughly mashes the potatoes to the perfect texture and never, ever gives you even a hint of gluey-ness.
The salad was delightfully simple –organic red and yellow tomatoes, vine ripened and fairly bursting, shreds of red oak lettuce, the thinnest slivers of Spanish onion, chunks of organic cucumber, garlic infused olive oil, sea salt, cracked pepper and a splash of balsamic.
The conversation was lively, except when eating – then, almost dead silence (except for a few little moans of deep, deep pleasure – or was that only me?).
The crumble, a perfect dinner party desert if there ever was one – you can make it in advance and simply pop it in the oven at the start of the meal and it will emerge, fragrant and steaming at exactly the right time, was heavenly. It came from the oven in a nutty, brown sugar and fruit-scented cloud. The berries were tangy and plump and sweet, the crumble nutty and crispy, with a burnt sugar crust and topped with a dollop of softly whipped vanilla cream. My husband, who is possibly the hungriest man alive, had seconds and would have had thirds had I not shot him “you’d better not finish that whole crumble on me” daggers.
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