Cheese of the Month, the first of twelve installments

I fantasize that one day I will move to Paris, and be one of those elegant Parisian women who throws sophisticated dinner parties in my impeccably decorated apartment. The morning of my soiree, I would leisurely peruse the local markets, examining the shiny flesh of an eggplant, a marbleized leg of lamb, the little glass jars of honey, choosing only the finest ingredients. On my way home, I would stop by the fromagerie to choose three perfect cheeses to serve my guests. I would spend the afternoon cooking in my small, yet cozy kitchen (which would look something like the above), a glass of wine by my side and some Astrud Gilberto in the background. There might be olives or tapenade. Caviar or foie gras and toast. Dinner would be served on a long wooden table, topped with a white linen tablecloth, a vase of wildflowers, and votive candles in blue glass jars. Conversation would flow, and guests would dine on a nice gigot d'agneau (leg of lamb dressed with garlic, olive oil, salt & pepper, and other herbs), a simple green salad, a basket of warm bread (and more wine, of course). Before dessert (an almond tart), I would serve the cheeses I had picked out earlier that day. Everyone would be having such a wonderful time that no one would want to go home, but I would finally kick them out so that I could settle into a a nice hot bubble bath. (In my fantasy, someone else does the dishes!)

As I mentioned in a recent post, Jason gave me a membership to the Artisanal Cheese of the Month Club for Christmas, and my first package arrived today. Opening the box, I was struck by a feeling of well-being, the three beautiful cheeses within evoking promises of dinner parties to come and good times to be had. The bounty? A buttery Hudson Valley Camembert, The Fog Light Goat's Milk cheese (similar to the widely-adored Humboldt Fog), and a strong, tangy Petite Munster. I sampled a bite of each tonight, a sort of apres-diner indulgence, and a taste of the wonderful times (and cheese deliveries!) to come in 2009.

Thank you, Jason. You are totally invited to my next dinner party.

Photo is from Laissez Faire Design blog, which has got lots of lovely pictures and other fun things to look at.

The Best Gallery in Dupont

Having spent my child and young adult-hood in small-town Iowa, I have had a fondness for farmers' markets for as long as I can remember. I have distinct memories of sunny Saturdays spent wandering the Iowa City Farmers Market, which was held in a parking lot across from the public library. On those Saturdays, the lot was filled with vendors from across the state, offering a brilliant array of fruits, vegetables, eggs, cheese, jams, and flowers, often sold out of the back of the farmers' own pick-up trucks. My mother would lead me and my sister up and down the loosely arranged aisles, the gleaming displays of farm-state bounty nearly eye-level to our kid statures. I carefully observed the jewel-like glimmer of pink raspberries, the gleam of shiny, overripe tomatoes, the elegance of corn cobs hidden away in their smooth green husks. It was an aesthetic experience, and I was always far less concerned with actually procuring these items than with simply observing their loveliness.

This reverence for the "farmers' gallery" stays with me still, apparently, as I found myself nearly paralyzed with appreciation at the Dupont FRESHFARM Market yesterday. With $45 in my pocket, I could've filled several bags full of buffalo jerky, feta de Provence, or lush salad greens, and yet, I found myself simply wandering the stalls, stopping to admire the way the midday light illuminated a cluster of basil plants, smiling at a child's squeal of delight upon discovering the display of live Maryland crabs. It was enough to just be there. More than enough.

I returned home with a renewed sense of abundance and three apples, two Fuji and a Braeburn. I ate the Braeburn on the walk home. It was really, really good.

Photo of Dupont FRESHFARM market tomatoes by Flickr user M.V. Jantzen.
Photo of Dupont FRESHFARM Savoy cabbage by Flickr user Josporte.