I got invited to a supper club. This is through no merit of my own. I just have friends who are way cooler than I am, and they know other extremely cool people, and bam! I’m holding a plate of gorgeous and lovingly prepared rustic French food on a Friday night.
Tracy and Gregg were hosting the Porch Light crew tonight. The Porch Light crew consists of three amazing local chefs, who put together local, seasonal, themed food events (this one was Bastille Day), serve a crowd of forty or so, and make it look easy. (It can’t possibly be easy. It’s way too good to be easy.)
It all started with raspberry gin cocktails in mason jars on the back patio. After that, I embarrassed myself with the homemade prosciutto tea sandwiches. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. Manners got the better of me and I physically removed myself from their influence.
Then there was French potato salad,
ratatouille, which has never particularly wowed me, until I had this ratatouille and realized, oh! this is what the fuss is about,
and a tart with a buckwheat crust, and flowers on the plate, which sort of started to make up for my wretched couple of days this week,
and piles and piles of summer tomatoes in a simple salad,
and homemade sausage,
even pickled carrots. Pickled carrots! Who knew? Yum.
Ollie walked past with the plate of prosciutto sandwiches when she was clearing the table. I was all “wait wait wait wait wait.” And I had one more. I wish I had taken a pocketbook inside. I’d have smuggled some home. Would that have been rude? That’s probably rude.
You’d understand if you’d tried one, though. You’d have helped me smuggle.
The crowd mingled, and the chefs kept piling more food on platters, and the cocktails got a little lower in the pitcher, and then the desserts came out. French macaroons are always just the cutest little desserts. I never take them all that seriously; they just usually look like they’d be pretty, but all airy and without much “oomph.”
I stand corrected. I swooned when I took a bite of a chocolate one with speculoos spread in the middle. I couldn’t talk coherently for the next five minutes. It was that good. In my opinion, speculoos spread is the finest thing to come out of Belgium, period, and I am including Belgian chocolates and Chimay Bleu here, so this is quite a serious statement. It’s the only thing I ask for every time my sister comes home to visit from Brussels. Speculoos spread in a chocolate French macaroon? I would like to give someone an award for that.
I heard the ideas they’re kicking around for the next Porch Light. You don’t want to miss it. These people know what they’re doing. I’d stay tuned.