My knight in shining armor (or a long sleeved gray t-shirt, but whatever)
Most of the following events happened. Some are exaggerated well beyond the truth. I call it "creative" license. You would probably call it lying. My family might call it "telling a good story". Let's agree to disagree.
My biggest complaint in this life is that no one, save for a few special people, cooks for me. Even though I travel forth around this land telling anyone who will listen that I'm especially fond of such simple foodstuffs as grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, macaroni and cheese, and hamburgers. Simple stuff. I don't need someone to get all fancy-pants on my account, in fact I prefer it if they don't.
In case you couldn't tell from all of this blather, I'm trying to make you feel sorry for me. I can hear you thinking, "oh, that poor, poor, girl, wasting away because so few people will give her a bite of bread, or a sip of their tea." And then you start thinking, "She's so frightfully skinny, so unnatural for a chef. We can't trust her!"
I know, right? It's totally horrible.
Until one day, several weeks ago (cue dramatic music and sweeping shots of my long, flowing hair blowing in the Star Search industrial fan pointed at my face) I was invited over to the house of a chef by a mutual friend. Chef Trevis was more than happy to cook for me even though we had never met. In fact, he planned a lavish feast. I mentioned to the mutual friend that she should tell him about the garlic-onion allergy I have. Note my use of foreshadowing here.
The day of the dinner arrives (cue royal trumpets). I'm whisked into Trevis and Caryn's home and seated at the head of an elegantly appointed table. The juice of the gods starts to flow and it is only then that we find out our mutual friend sort of kind of oopsie forgot to tell Trevis about my "issue" until 2 hours before the dinner. The whole thing could have been rather awkward but I'm convinced chefs, like kings, sort of get off on this shit. I mean what other than a total change of plans or a burning village can prove your chops. Leaders thrive in times of crises.
Of course - naturally - he had practically planned a multi-course homage to the stinking rose which was well on its way before it got the kabosh. Garlic was everywhere. It was a fragrant virus, run amok through his dinner. I shrank back in horror, like the vampire I am, when I heard what he had planned for the meal.
What would have been my last meal.
Luckily, as fate will have it, I was spared to tell you this very important story. Trevis erased all traces of garlic from the meal, scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees like a simple kitchen wench to remove all remnants and I was subsequently treated to a most excellent repast.
He had me at the first course. I love a dish that is simple, but still has a twist. Large prawns were wrapped in Parma ham, broiled and dipped in warm extra virgin olive oil infused with one each of Serrano & Scotch Bonnet peppers, lemon zest and cilantro
Behold! Above is pictured an ancient dish that has been so bastardized throughout time you might not recognize it. It's called Fettucini Alfredo and no, it's not the gloppy, soupy muck you're used to. It was a glorious balanced combination of al dente fettucini, high quality butter, Parmesan, sea salt and love. I ate so much I hurt. I hurt a lot.
The rest of the dinner included: Tournedos with mushrooms in a beef demi, Frisee salad with whole grain mustard vinaigrette and Chocolate and berry "trifle" with coconut cream diplomat.
Nothing short of a trebuchet was needed to get my royal lard butt out of my chair.
It took all the willpower in my scrawny body to not pocket these awesome copper pans on my way out the door. If Trevis didn't have a few inches on me and a hundred more pounds I might have considered doing an "ashlyn" on him. My friend Ashlyn taught me to hold your right arm way out to the side, wiggle it around like a crazy fool and when your prey is lost in your ridiculousness you steal their shit. It could of worked.
Trevis and his lovely queen Caryn were wonderful hosts and before they sent me on my way, poured me little nips of their house distilled Rainier Kirschwasser and Bing Cordial. For more information, please check out Chef Trevis' blog. This dude is a king and hasn't let MS stop him from lording over his kitchen. Check out his writing on living with MS.