Roughly translated: " The Alchemy Of a Wild, Rugged Bivalve." I made it up. And it rocks.
I'm in a scallop cook-off this evening and I've spent the good part of this day shopping, list-making, getting my chorizo rendered, my potatoes diced, my mise-en-place ready, my aioli the way I want it and my sear just perfect. Ballot sheets have been printed. A "Golden Spoon Award" is at stake. Time for trash-talking to fall silent and our game faces to be worn. It's almost go-time, and I have a good feeling about this.
Matt and I sat down to a little taste test this afternoon and his eyes rolled back in his head, so I think that's a good sign. The spice-dusted scallops are perfectly sweet and tender with a gently crisp exterior, the spinach smuggles in a tang with a squeeze of lemon, the diced potato fried in butter with thyme lends a rich ground, the spicy red chorizo brings a toothsome, spicy savor to the party while the Meyer lemon aioli brings a creamy, sprightly song to the palate. It's mildly perfect.
(My second or third sear practice -- I think I've got it.)
Faulkner, Gary, you both had better watch out.
