Etherknitter

Alinea

The next restaurant adventure was Alinea.   Knitting content will reappear in my next post.  (That's fair warning to all who feel that meat and potatoes [or just potatoes] are all that is needed to hold body and soul together.)   

The menu was printed on paper this time.  It declared that you could have one of three options:  the six course menu (for weenies who made reservations here by accident), the twelve course menu (the most popular: hint hint) or the twenty-five course menu (which takes five hours to eat).  We took the hint, and chose the Mama Bear menu.

Glassware was Ravenscroft for the aperitif wine, and Spiegelau for the rest of the wines.  I have NO idea why I am including that factoid.  I took COPIOUS notes, based on the questions from the Moto post, and, well, my OCD took note of the glassware.

First course:
Cucumber  mango, several aromatics    (picture too blurry)
This was a rolled thin slice of English cucumber, gently vinegared, with mango in the center, saffron and spices sprinkled on the outside.  It was a small mouthful with the gentle cool crispness of the cuke serving as a foil for the unfolding taste of the spices.  Then it was gone.
Wine:  Lillet blanc

Second course:
Hearts of Palm in five sections
This was presented in professional fashion on five little plates.   Each.  And it was my profession, not theirs.  The waiter called it vertebrae.
Hollowed-out sections of hearts of palm, filled, from right to left with:  a. vanilla pudding topped with avocado, thai chili, lime zest b. fava bean puree and preserved lemon c. toasted bulghur with garlic mayonnaise d. prune with nicoise olive  e. black summer truffle with pumpernickel crumbs on top
Wine:  2003 Pinot Auxerrois, Vieille Vignes, Albert Mann (Alsace)
You picked up the vertebra, and flipped the little guy into your mouth.  I liked the fava bean puree the best.

Third course:
Litchi with horseradish, chervil juice, oyster cream
This was scrumptious.  The pile of grey is Osetra caviar.  The green is the chervil juice reduction.  I cannot imagine someone having the job of making, and then reducing chervil juice.   The cream was infused with oyster.   
Wine:  2002 Dirler Pinot Gris Reserve (Alsace)

The intermezzo at this point was bread and butter.  It seemed like an odd place to present this.  Two butters were offered:  cow butter from Wisconsin,  goat butter from Quebec. 

Fourth course:
Lobster with chanterelles, ravioli of coconut powder
The ravioli (behind the basil leaf in the upper right corner) was made of carrot powder and coconut powder, rolled, and filled with more essence of coconut.  Lobster consomme was spooned over the assemblage, and the lobster cheeto crisp adorns the plate.  There was sweetness, spice, and tangy aromatics according to my note. 
Wine:  2003 Spatlese Trocken, Muller-Catoir, Bergergarten, Pfalz (Germany) . 

Fifth course: 
Sole  mosaic of mostly traditional flavors
Dover sole guigonettes (those crimpy longer pieces) were served with cauliflower cooked in brown butter, with banana spears, and powders:  caper, parsley, lemon, banana.  The chef loves powders.  He manages to catch the essence of flavor in the dried form, and serves them with moist foods that release their flavors.  The fish was perfectly cooked.  The flavors all melded together.  You look at the sole.  Then you look at the banana.  You say, "Huh?"  But it works. 
Wine:  2000 Movia, "Veliko Bianco", Goriska Brda (Slovenia)
This was certainly a first for me - a Slovenian wine.  It is grown near the Italian border, and is a mix of Sauvignon Blanc and a second remote grape.

Sixth course:
Pork dijon, orange, California laurel branch
This was pork belly tempura, served in a "dish" the server called 'the squid'.  I had to ask why, so he lifted the upside-down shuttlecock and mimicked a squid swimming horizontally.  I guess you had to be there.

The warm, crispy, citrusy sweetness matched the sweetness of the pork belly.  The laurel?  Slighly aromatic, and fun to play with between courses.
Wine:  2003 Gaja 'Rossj-Bass' Chardonnay, Langhe, Italy
I'm not a fan of Gaja wines.   He charges too much money for what is simply a potable beverage, and I have seen him be a sexist pig.  But the man knows how to make really good wine.  This was one of them.

Seventh course:
Lamb with fig, pernod, pillow of anise air
This is where the chef, Grant Achatz, enters the realm of the supernatural.  He fills a plastic bag shaped like a pillow with anise-scented air.  The waitstaff puts it into a linen casing that is structured like a pillow case.  Then they poke two holes in the plastic bag, so that the weight of the plate s l o w l y releases the anise air. 
The lamb is braised, and coated with panko and coffee.  The foam was called a "pernod nage".  It had the flavor of anise, and was ethereal in its existence.  If you touched it with a fork, it disappeared into liquid form.  The fig was also poached with fennel.  The little squares near the fig were braised fennel.  This was one of my favorite dishes. 
Wine:  1999 Barbera d'Alba, 'Affinato in Carati', Paolo Scavino, Piedmont (Italy)
I want to worship at this man's vinous feet.  This was the best wine of the evening.  Each pour was two ounces, and I ended up leaving at least half of each pour.   

Eighth course:
Bison with truffle, pistachio, sweet spices

North Dakota bison, poached and deep fried potatoes.  Truffle, braised pistachios. 
Wine:  2001 Malbec, "Finca Altamira", Achaval-Ferrer (Argentina)

I was flagging at this point.  The notes became perfunctory.

Ninth course: 
Matsutake with pine nuts, mastic, rosemary
This was a steamed cake of matsutake mushrooms.  Mastic infused the cream.  My only experience with mastic was associated with what my father used to adhere tiles to the bathroom walls.  It turns out it is an edible, exotic resin from the island of Chios.  It's the creamy substance poured over the cake.
Wine:  1978 Sercial Madeira, Vinhos Barbeito

Tenth course:
Corn with honey, tonka bean, vanilla
This was a dish with freeze-dried corn served with wildflower honey, vanilla granite', almond/coffee/vanilla essences, and tonka bean cream anglaise. 

Tonka is a tree from central Africa.  I think chefs delight in one-upping each other with exotic and undiscovered delicacies.  We  knitters are not much different:  we want to be the first to use the newest, sexy yarn, or the first to finish Eris.

Wine:  Pineau Charentais, "Cuvee du Petit Buis", Lheraud

We are in the home stretch now. 

Eleventh course:
Chocolate with avocado, lime, mint
This was pliable chocolate cream, with lime ice cream, avocado puree, mint-infused chocolate sauce, and cocoa crumbs.  It was delectable. 
Wine:  Moscato rosa,  Alto Aldige, with creme de cassis

Great match.

Twelfth course:
Chicory with peanuts, milk chocolate, wild rice
Liquid chicory, in a chocolate shell.  Crispy wild rice coated the shell.  One bite.  Sweet coffee/chocolate essence flooding your mouth. 
Wine:  None.  Thank god.

The waiters' black-clad, slender bodies glided effortlessly back and forth through the evening, explaining, instructing, presenting.    As we left, we asked to see the kitchen.  The man with his hand on his hip on the left is the boss, Grant Achatz.  I don't think he has hit 30 yet.
The DH looked back to the Moto pictures.  Both chefs are creating food in the style of Ferran Adria of Barcelona.  The food at Alinea was better.  But the pictures at Moto show wide, delighted grins on our faces.  Moto was more fun.

In the next post, we will return to our regularly scheduled programming.

 

Navigation by the skies

Whoever would have thought that the sky would be a source of yarn?  Skies have provided influence, direction, terror, and assistance for most of human history.   

Millennium Park in Chicago celebrates art and skies.  The sculpture called Cloudgate (known locally as the Bean) provided my entry into Sandy's contest.  The Bean is everything to the left.  The real sky is the lighter blue triangle on the right.

That twisted metal sculpture also reflected in the Bean?  It's a concert venue designed by Frank Gehry.  The second picture is unBeaned.

Right time, right place.  In front of the Bean yesterday stood several women, in a line, knitting.  They were dressed in black suits, white shirts, red ties.  Inquiry provided details of international Knit It day.  A variation on "Do It", the suits represented power, the knitting represented peace, and helping other human beans.   They were filmed, and this performance piece was being duplicated in other parts of the world at the same time.    The first and second pictures are nonBean.  The third picture shows knitters reflected in the Bean.  Of course.  Some of the knitters were clearly dilettantes, with tangled skeins, and little progress.  The woman shown in the first picture was a picker, and had the most to show.  It was 90 degrees or more on the plaza, and they disbanded quickly after  Knit It was filmed. 

Weekend travel

The weekend was spent traveling to the place that generates New England weather.  All I have to do is call my MIL to find out what will happen to us two days later.   The Windy City is a first class town, even though the Cubs haven't won a World Series since 1908.

We had dinner on Saturday in an uber-restaurant.  It's the kind of eating establishment where you simply check your expectations at the door, bring in a sense of experimentation, and a healthy appetite.  Since not everyone is a gastronaut, I'll flash only the menu at you.

The menu itself is made of rice paper.  The ink is soy.  The decor on the side is puffed rice, parmesan chips, and dehydrated shallots with teeny sprouts.  Once you decide on which menu you want, you mix it together with the creme fraiche under the rice paper, and you have your amuse bouche:  risotto.

It looked better than it tasted, but the rest of the food at Moto (reviews at the link) was amazing.  Boston has NOTHING like this, alas.

I brought an old WIP for mindless airplane and car knitting.  I'm 1+ skein away from finishing the Irish Hiking Scarf.  It's always hard to take a picture of a long WIP, but here is the valiant attempt:

The pattern is from Hello Yarn.  The yarn is Classic Elite Wings (alpaca/silk).   I'm making it L O N G in anticipation of the brutal New England winter.  This was a yarn and pattern I had stuffed into my den in preparation for the long postsurgical hibernation.  That took it to half-way done, and now it is time for the rest. 

My MIL is a jeweler in the Chicago area.  She has a beading station set-up at home.  My knitting is taking a back seat (literally, since I'm only knitting now while in the car) to learning how to assemble professionally perfect stitch markers.  I have tourmalines, pearls, amethysts, moonstones, garnets and more in front of me. 

There are TWO towers like the one you see to the left of the picture.  Each drawer is filled with gold and silver things to make beaded items, or with a different gemstone. 

I'm a busy little chipmunk.  My cheeks are full.

It's not my fault

It's been a very eventful two days without a single thing happening. 

1.  I found a drop-in knitting class in Littleton (Woolpack) and got shoulder seaming help.  The knit goddess' name is Madonna, and she has been knitting for 40 years.  I'm not the only one in the shop who thought she was from Ireland.  She disdained the thought, and declared her origins to be Newfoundland.  I thought of the Harlot.  Canada, you know.

2.  The Harlot's blog today spoke of  KnitLit 3 debuting near my town.  THIS time I won't be on crutches.  THIS time I'll drink her under the table.  Heh.

3.  The sleeves of the sweater are still too short.  Knitting...knitting...knitting some more.  It's never done til it's over.

4.  I'm investigating homeowners' insurance.  I find out that there is an earthquake fault line running along I-93 in Massachusetts.  Insurance companies who know this are charging a LOT for earthquake coverage.  This small piece of information will separate the gamblers from the nongamblers.

5.  I got a "time-lapse" set of pictures of another moonflower opening.  Been there, done that on the blog.  During the photography session, I watch a bumblebee on the lavender flowers gathering whatever he gathers.  A hornet landed directly below him on the same flower.  I was transfixed as I watched the hornet initiate a fight.  They made body contact twice, and the bumblebee dropped like a stone to the deck.  I had witnessed the most primeval of events, a hornet stinging the enemy TO THE DEATH.  I stepped back two steps for the rest of the pictures.

I have not weeded behind this stand of plants in weeks.  It is alive with bees every day.  There must be some primeval instinct that told me to stay away. (It's Calamintha nepeta 'Nepeta'.)

6.  I bought the Sensational Socks book that Cassie told me about.  It is to socks what Ann Budd's book is to sweaters. 

7.  I discovered I detest bound-off shoulder seaming.  I will search out other options for all future sweaters.  Or the sweaters will die will I'm trying.

8.  I found a recipe for the best salsa.  It goes with chicken, fish, steak.   I'm sure tofu would work too.

Microwave an ear of yellow corn.   Grilling it would be better.  Cut the kernels off the ear.  Ini a small bowl, mix it with  diced, seeded plum tomato.  Unseeded, diced cherry tomatoes work too.  Cut up some basil and throw that in, to taste.  I use about two tablespoons.   Add some diced (small dice) red peppers.  If you want to jazz it up, finely dice some jalapeno to taste.  Add about 1/2 tsp really good olive oil.   A spritz of salt, and a few grinds of pepper.  Mix well.   Catch some with each bite of your main dish.  You get lycopenes, vegetables, taste bud titillation all at once.  Better hurry while it's still corn season.

There's no such thing as a free launch

We launch many things in our lives.  Most of us don't have boats or ships, but we do send children off to start independent lives.  One can launch a project at work.  Today, I'm launching the finished pieces of a sweater.  I've been voted off sleeve island.

The fully-fashioned neckline motif  designed by Melissa Leapman means I don't have to go back, pick up stitches, and knit a neckband.  However, the pattern says to knit the neck edging "until it meets in back slightly stretched".

No, there are no disasters here.  I haven't bound off the edges yet.  I'll join the shoulder seams, then have all the data I need to figure out if I need to knit a few or rip a few.  One variable is replaced by another.  There is no free launch.   I'm okay with this, since I thought the whole thing through as I was slogging through the knitwork.  For once.

I DID put my increases in one stitch, so that the selvedge stitch would be easier to seam.  What I DIDN'T do is make a garter stitch selvedge.  I followed the pattern, thinking how clever I was that I wouldn't have to seam in all the increases.  The edges roll.  It's stockinette.  I KNEW that.  The bars are hard to find with my glasses.  I squint without my glasses.   This is how the whole project looks to me right now:

And this is shoulder seaming hell.
The flip side to having lots of options (keep the sleeves live to decide on length, keep the neckbands live, ditto) is having lots of tangled miniskeins.  LOTS.  My dayjob is filled with the spaghetti of cords and loops and tangles and wires.  Now my knitting life echos this.   There was much profanity screamed at the top of my mind's lungs last night.   

So when knitting starts to feel like this, I think of other things.  How about a nice fall garden? 

This the Clematis ternifolia in bloom.   It is called the popcorn plant in the Etherknitter household.  One day there are hundreds of buds.  The next day, there are hundreds of flowers that have popped up with the speed and appearance of partially popped corn. 

I have a spinning question that is getting more relevant as the weather cools.  What do other spinners wear while spinning?  I find that my pants are adhering predrafted roving, especially the silk.  I have spiderwebs of roving covering my right thigh every time I get up from spinning.  I roll them between my fingers, and create roving bunnies.  To my mind, this is a waste of good roving.  (Yes, I know, packrat to the core.)  These wheel whiffs float around the floor, and make me sneeze.  Wrapping the roving around my drafting wrist doesn't work.  Am I the only one?

Shoulder seams, decluttering, and careful gardening are planned for this week.  Our area of the country has three confirmed deaths from eastern equine encephalitis, so I will wear my mesh bug shirt, long pants, and DEET.

Spinner's scatter

Call it survivor's guilt.   It's emotionally exhausting to slog through a normal life since the hurricane, for absolutely no good reason.   Marcia hit it EXACTLY when she said,

"...And even as I was enjoying the weekend, I felt guilty. And lucky. And scared. And enraged. And inspired."

I was relieved to see that I wasn't alone in my miasma.

The timetable for the Marla sweater has mandated steady knitting.  I'm three repeats away from a finished sleeve.    I've modified the pattern for a more conservative look.  I've chopped 1 1/2 inches from the length, and changed the length of the sleeves so that they don't dip in my soup.  That means I really don't know how long to knit them.  I will need to assemble front and back, then see how the sleeves work.  Yes, I've measured an old sweater that I know and love.  I'll soon know how that trick works with this construction.  Thank goodness it isn't a cap sleeve design.

Spinning is taking its turn.   The roving that I SO loved in its raw form (80% merino, 20% silk) from Kendig Cottage, colorway Bougainvillea, is spinning into mud.  I've tried spinning as roving, I've tried spinning from the fold.  The colors are muddy, and the white is creating miniature barber's poles throughout.  Not happy.  I'll finish the bag (2 oz) and ply, leaping to the conclusion that I am not an accurate prognosticator.  I hope I'm right.  Wrong?  Never mind.
On the left is the raw roving, and on the right is the bobbin-in-progress.

A hummer made a brief appearance on Saturday.  These magical creatures love lavender and Mina lobata.  The moonflowers made a startling appearance.  I saw a bud, tightly furled in the dusk.  I knew it was going to open that evening.  As I watched, an opening appeared at the top.  Before the DH could reach me with the camera, I had watched it unfold in two minutes, as if a great pressure was pushing it open from the inside.  The flash washes it out, and the morning picture always shows the tatters of the night moisture.  Here is dusk, without flash, newly born, for that very brief period of perfect existence.

The way I've been thinking recently, this feels like a metaphor for our own time on the earth.

Ostriches

Labor Day weekend.  Bad time for a post.  But this makes interesting reading before you gear up for September and all it holds.  The article is from the October 2004 National Geographic.

http://www3.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/0410/feature5/index.html

Something to think about.

Mitzvah

The seismic ripples in the life force of the South have knocked me off balance.  Our DMAT (Disaster Medical Assistance) team has departed for the medical areas close to NOLA, to do what they can.  Our IMSuRT personnel (International Medical and Surgical Response Team) are ready to go.  For earthquakes in the Middle East, and terrorist attacks in NYC,  they deployed mobile medical treatment centers in hours.  From ER to OR, they selflessly serve.  Just imagine a fully rigged operating room in a tent.  It works.  Our hospital, and teaching hospitals across the country, will absorb and continue the education of the medical students and residents who have been left without infrastructure.  Our department is taking anesthesia residents from NOLA.  This helps me feel that I am synchronizing into the chain of life, doing that which is necessary to help continue our path through the uncertainty, grief, and fear.  It works for me better than trying to bind my anxiety, stitch by stitch, on sleeve island.  Thanks, Margene, for organizing the knitters and giving us focus amongst ourselves.

Marla is on sleeve island.  Because I used the first sleeve as a giant swatch for this yarn, I only need to be on the island briefly.  The finished front looks like this:
The sleeve has one repeat done, so I'll wait on a picture.  I'm at the impatient part of the sweater.  It needs to be done.  I've had my fun with this yarn.  The pattern is soothing repetition at this point, but repetition nonetheless.    The dye variations of this yarn are sometimes unfortunate, and it remains another lesson in the purchase of this kind of product for full frontal knitting.

I'm contemplating my next project.  Socks seem to be calling my name...Eeeeetherkniiiiiiiter...If I thought about that too hard, it would keep me up at night.

The garden is both charming and annoying.  A series of pictures to illustrate:
The purple pillars are Agastache 'Desert Sunrise'.  The gardening world considers Agastache to be the IT plant of 2005.  It flowers reliably, doesn't die easily, and thrives despite lack of water.  I gave it a test run this summer, and ignored it during the dry spells.  These blooms are the result, on a plant that was three inches of two tall, spindly stalks in June.  I'm impressed.  My source was High Country Gardens.  I'm ordering from them again this fall, which is high praise for a mail-order outfit. 

The grass is  Pennisetum alopecuroides.   A steady, drought-tolerant performer, it supplies color and interest with decorative seedheads that last through the fall.  The first snow knocks it out of the ring.

The last picture is a good garden gone bad.  This is the part of the garden I haven't touched since early spring.  All the purple flowers (morning glory, verbena bonariensis) are volunteers from last year.  The tallest plant is NOT a weed.  It's an artemesia without a guiding hand.  That is a synonym for right plant, wrong location.  I'll fix that in the spring.