Bagna cauda, with a new carrot-cooking technique developed by Jim. Slowly caramelize in bottom of bowl, eat 10 minutes later. While we dipped the cat went berserk with potent Greenpoint nip, delivered by his new dealer in a baggy.
The girls: 6 potatoes sliced underneath, with a little olive oil and salt and pepper. Two birds, stuffed with salt, terrace thyme and a slice of lemon each. A cup of Muscat grapes, halved and sprinkled over potatoes and birds. One lemon's juice, salt and pepper again. A cup of water in the pan. Into a 450' oven. These roasted for nigh on 2 hours, and I turned the heat down 2/3's of the way in. Also added a little more water. I don't baste.
Vincent's SECOND helping of fool. I cooked the rhubarb down with sugar and water, strained the syrup for our Prosecco cocktails before dinner and kept the pulp for the fool, whisked into beaten cream. I added creme caramel to the menu, but my oven doesn't do low heat and it was leathery on the top where it met too-hot air.
Lovely evening, with Bonbon, Jim and I weepy with laughter at Don Estorbo's expense ("I use' to rule a corntree. Now I yam weareen' a wornsey!" Well, it was extremely funny at the time. Estorbo was modeling his red vest for the benefit of our guests). But we also planned his campaign trail and figured out that we'd become rich by devoting ourselves to his career rather than to ours...
This is what happens when your friends know your cat's inner voice on the interwebs before they know you.
The Frenchman stood by his cat and looked at us a little sternly. Cat-drugs, hyenic laughter, t-t-t. This morning we all have a bit of a headache.