Down and Out in Denver

My friend Nancy is visiting from out of town for the weekend and so on Saturday night Alastair and I decided to take her to our very favorite Denver restaurant, Potager (see Alastair’s very favorable review here).  It was, and it pains me to say this, a little disappointing. The appetizers — wilted savory greens, spinach and mushroom toast — were both fantastic.  The main courses, however, not so much.  The shellfish stew was more broth with scallops and mussels than it was stew as I understand the term, all topped off with a saffron aioli, which proceeded to disintegrate into unappetizing floating clumps in the broth.  I like mayonnaise in pretty much any form but this was distinctly unappetizing.  Nancy and Alastair both got the roast chicken and while the bird itself was well cooked, the jumble of accompaniments just didn’t work that well, and seemed to be different from what usually comes with the chicken.  This time: arugula, dried apples(?), pine nuts, olives, and about fifteen other things. One got the impression that Potager might have been trying to clean out its fridge.  The flourless chocolate cake, however, was divine.  And the service, as always, was fantastic.

Alastair's Sardine Toast with my Canadian Flag Cocktail Napkins and Grandmother's Monogram Plates

But after a disappointing dinner Alastair and I felt duty-bound  to prepare something pretty fantastic for the out-of-towner, especially as we were going to be settling in for a long night of Oscar-watching chez moi. And a veritable feast it was!  We began with Alastair’s signature sardine toast: sardines, lemon, mustard, minced onion, oil, and butter, all combined and then toasted on a baguette. Delicious.

Caesar Salad with PLENTY of Anchovies

Loyal DOD readers may recall that Alastair and I have ordered a number of disappointing Caesar salads of late, so I decided it was time to make it right.  I used my grandmother’s recipe for the dressing (as well as her bowl), fried my own croutons (pictured below) and Alastair brought over plenty of anchovies.  It was all topped off by some grated parmesan, and I have to say it was pretty amazing.  Tangy and salty and crunchy and thoroughly unhealthy, the croutons particularly.  I think it was seeing the amount of butter and oil I used that might have given Nancy a heart attack, not the croutons themselves.

Homemade Croutons cooked in a gallon of oil and pound of butter

English Cucumber

We finished the meal with a delicious pasta salad prepared by Alastair: shrimp, dill, and English cucumbers, all tossed with perfectly cooked shell pasta and a tangy lemony dressing.  Unfortunately my pictures of this scrumptious concoction all came out blurry.  Maybe a consequence of all the wine we had consumed by that point?

On to the Oscars:  We began eating and drinking and watching at 4:00 as E! began its red carpet coverage.  I always find these things a little bit painful as the hosts bend over backwards to ingratiate themselves with the celebrities.  Though we were grateful it wasn’t Joan and Melissa Rivers, Ryan Seacrest wasn’t much of an improvement.  I just felt embarrassed for him.  That said, he was leagues better than the horrendous Kathy Ireland, Sherri Shepherd, and Jess Cagle, who were hosting ABC’s half-hour coverage before the show actually began.  Ireland, looking far too skinny, was, in a word, wooden.  And yet absurdly peppy at the same time!!!!  All inflection seemed to be thoroughly rehearsed. Please take her away and never let her do this again!

The awards went to the predicted winners.  There weren’t really any surprises.  We all cheered for Kathryn Bigelow as much for the fact that she beat out her ex-husband, James Cameron as for her being the first woman to win an Oscar for directing.  Suck it, Jimmy!  And I loved Sandra Bullock’s remarkably gracious acceptance speech, as she wittily acknowledged the other actresses in her category, gave a shout-out to mothers, and spoke about her own mother’s influence, particularly her insistence that no person, regardless of race, religion, color, class, or sexual orientation, is better than anyone else.  I am also very much a fan of the format where each best actor/actress nominee gets a little speech delivered by someone who knows them.  Many were quite touching.

As for dress, the real reason to watch, it was the general consensus of the room that the following looked horrible: Vera Farmiga (even though we love her); SJP (who fiddled with her neckline the whole night and seemed to have bathed in bronzer); Charlize Theron (who has to really work to look bad); Zoe Saldana (were those ornamental cabbages on her dress?); Kate Winslet (great from the waist up but otherwise seemed to be wearing separates, not a dress; maybe a twinset?); and Miley Cyrus.  We were fans of the sartorial choices of Sandra Bullock, Rachel McAdams (Canadian!), Queen Latifah (all hail the Queen!), Carey Mulligan (hair, not dress), Julianne Moore, Helen Mirren, and Oprah Winfrey. George Clooney’s hair was horrendous and his attitude even worse.  And finally, James Cameron’s wife needs to investigate the power of food; not only is it tasty, it also covers up your jutting collar bone!