The most beautiful saying in the English language is Cellar Door. Not in my book bitches. Winner Winner Chicken Dinner has a much more appealing feel, dontchya think?
Before I went to South Beach last week for the Food & Wine Festival, I was lucky enough to be chosen to attend a blogger shopping spree at local store NEXT.
Thank goodness I did because an article of clothing that I took home from NEXT saved my northern ass in Miami. Read the awesome here.
One of the most amazing & entrepreneurial women I know, Danielle DeBoe is featured on Design Sponge. Well actually her home is. Design Sponge proves once again that they know style and class as Danielle’s home is about as stylish as you can get. My goal in life now is to convince Danielle that she wants to help me make my house as cool as hers!
The Chef’s Death Row Dinners are featured on Cleveland.com. Great article. Boo-ya!
I decided to pick the winner of the Viking Cooking Class myself this time. There were so many creative dinners that I absolutely fell in love with all of you! Loved these answers:
1~Alyssa:
So, my last meal would be an orgy of Ancient Roman proportions. I feel like the beach is a suitable location, but if I’m going all out, I think I’d rent an island. Clothing is prohibited, but the shy folks can grab a caftan at the gate. Now, if this were actually ancient Rome, there would be a lot of gladiator-style fight-to-the-death stuff, and probably some animal brutality, but I’m a peaceful individual. I’d limit this to some muscle-y, shirtless (maybe pants-less) men giving back/foot massages, and maybe a few leopards or monkeys roaming free. After all four hundred-and-fifty guests have arrived and thoroughly bathed themselves in the basil/orange-scented mineral bath, drinking champagne and eating the United Nations of caviar all the while, the scantily-clad servants can roll in the 60-gallon barrels of vino. We pop a few spigots in those bitches, and then it’s time to eat.
We sit in the sand, and as we watch the beasts roasting over a giant open fire, we begin with the offerings of the sea. All one would hear would be the slurping of oysters, urchins, shrimp, scallops, crabs, clams, snails, and scallops, straight from their homes; but one would only hear that sound if not partaking in the festivities, as everyone at the party would be waaay drunk by now. The vomitorium is on the left, just past that sand dune. I’m sure you’ll need it after the whole fish course, which needs no condiment but a bowlful of Sicilian lemons. I admit, all we have are ocean whitefish, but that’s what I like, and I’m the one who’s dying tomorrow.
Did I mention the absurdity of the “side dishes?” – the Dragonfuit and Durian, the African Cucumber and the Mangosteen, the Star-, Jack-, and Passion-fruit; fennel and beets and Jicama; Mung, Fava, and Cranberry Beans; and every possible leafy green that can be harvested on our great planet make an appearance.
What’s that -it’s time for birds? Trays worthy of Alexandre Dumas float by with squab, hens of various sizes, ducks of various nationalities, and geese. Let’s not forget the Bird’s Nest Soup. Terrines? You bet!
They’ve rolled in the ninth and tenth barrel of wine by now, and those still standing are treated to an offering of offal. Trotters, brains, and sweetbreads for everyone! Bull balls and tripe for the condemned lady, thank you.
At this point, I am certain that the crowd will have ebbed to a hundred of my closest friends, and it is safe to bring out the beasts that we have so thankfully watched roasting. The pig, the deer, the bison and the boar; elk, steer, lamb, and calf – all eaten with our hands, as our dishwashers have either come across a remote corner of the island with one of the guests or passed out next to the vomitorium. A rainbow of potatoes have been added to the table, almost as if the divine have intervened.
After the last drop of Brunello di Montalcino has been emptied from it’s barrel, I’m probably the only person who has yet to pass out on the beach. But, as they say, you can sleep when you’re dead, and since I’ll be dead tomorrow and won’t have to deal with the hangover, you can bet that I’m going to finish every last bit of Baba au Rhum, along with the chocolate from Leonida’s. I’ll make sure that the chocolates last until the last star has disappeared from the sky.
La Fin.
I love it girl. Absolutely loved it. You should totally start a blog…(wink wink)
