Or Why My Ass is as Big as Texas...
With Valentine's Day safely behind us I feel comfortable gushing about the meal my man dished up to make the holiday perfect.
We went back and forth on the idea of going to a fancy restaurant, finally deciding that we'd rather not fight the crowds, or feel rushed, or -- oh, let's face it -- we didn't make a reservation in time. No biggie. On to Plan B.
We stopped by Weggies to select the ingredients and here's what Frank prepared:
He softened chopped shallots in a blend of olive oil, lemon juice, white wine and butter, then carefully melted a few ounces of Chèvre into the mixture until a thick, creamy sauce was achieved. Fresh rosemary and cracked, black pepper was thrown in, followed by big chunks of lobster tail, which took just a minute or two to cook through.
I just adore Chèvre. I think I'd eat a shock-absorber if it was covered in Chèvre.
The lobster mixture was poured over a bed of seasoned rice (which he had embellished with sautéed shittaki mushrooms, diced celery, minced garlic and fresh thyme). A fluffy, broiled crabcake was served on the side. As if we needed anything on the side. Perhaps a side of antiarrhythmic drugs would've been more appropriate. A side of treadmill. A side of a permanent girdle.
To cut the richness he served a chilled 2005 Saint-Péray white from the northern Rhône wine region of France.
For dessert -- oh, yes, we actually ate dessert -- he made CREAM CHEESE BROWNIES! I confess to making that request. I see the word "cheese" and go into a trance.
Must. Have. More. Cheese.
Everything was divine. It was a scrumptuous Valentine's treat.