Sunday, June 26, 2022

una festa molto grande










We doled out the money for All You Can Eataly, an evening event celebrating the majesty of the wine and food of Italy.

It was hosted by Dallas' Eataly, the Italian mega-market company in countries around the globe. They doled out what we paid for, and more, and they did it brilliantly and deliciously. 

The party's hours were excess layered on top of excess on top of excess on top of excess. It was loud. It was crowded. Everything was constant. It was sensory overload and I couldn't get enough. 

About the wine... 
There were wine stations every few feet throughout the store. Nice pours in your personal stemmed wine glass; 100 choices of whatever you wanted however many times you wanted. The later the hour, the larger the pours. That night Soave seemed to consume us. 


About the food...
It's a daunting task to try and describe. So grand 
I want a do-over. Now mapped and memorized in my mind, I'd know what was where and I would have a better strategy for missing nothing. Here's a peek at the splendor.

+Think of an antipasti table. Now think of several antipasti tables throughout the store, plated with every kind of Italian meats, cheeses, vegetables, fruits, mixed olives in pools of olive oil, touches of dried cranberries and Marcona almonds, baskets piled high with specialties of stuffed puff pastries...
+Mozzarella Bar, fresh, housemade offerings
+Focaccia Table, from simple with olive oil and rosemary (a favorite of the night) to fully loaded. We're spoiled forevermore.
+Pizza, Neapolitan and Roman styles 
+Pasta Stations, top of my list, especially the center-space-table featuring pasta tossed within a wheel of Reggiano, hint of truffle and garnished with a big chunk of Parmigiano if you'd like. Uh, duh. 
+Arancini, Sicilian rice balls we lucked upon, were likely the creamiest and best I'll ever eat. 
+Seafood Counter with salad samplings of marinated seafood plus freshly shucked oysters handed out, one by one
+Cannoli, Gelato, and Tiramisu all of which we sadly missed out on. A serious do-over craved.













There were tables featuring Fabbri wild Italian cherries, Acetaia Giusti Balsamic vinegar, extra-virgin olive oil, meatballs, panini... You could watch a wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano be cracked, watch demos for making mozzarella, pasta, pizza,  and Tiramisu. Even how to hand slice Italian meats.


W and I never made it to the depths of the outdoor offerings. There was a band, more demos and there may have been a whole pig roasting. 



The energy inside was addictive and the closing of the night's event engaging. We watched the crew of people who made this event so successful, join the party and reap rewards for their hard work. The servers, head chefs, line cooks, bussers, dishwashers, runners, all partook. Many danced in celebration on the makeshift dancefloor. Managers shook hands, bumped fists, and hugged staff. A head bartender toasted his team with espresso martini shots.

W and I observed with joy and in awe of so many happy people together, like clams in the same shell. 



We sipped the last top-off and thought about which of our family and friends would have enjoyed this evening with us. Robin and Ashley definitely, with our history of such fun times. Joe and Helen and Misty for sure. Maybe Annie, maybe Anne, maybe Linda, maybe Doris, maybe Joyce, maybe Kerri, maybe Sylvia, maybe Jim. 

So, maybe next year...

W and I will certainly be there for a very long awaited, greatly anticipated do-over. 



Wednesday, January 5, 2022

all months matter

 
"Comparison is the thief of joy."

I think perhaps, this fifth day of this new year, that I should adopt the Theodore Roosevelt quote I'm always touting, as my New Year's Resolution and find a way to actually heed its truth.

The latest in my personal battle comes with the arrival of January. It may well be my favorite month, I'm ready to exclaim. But! Oh! Wait! So is November.

See?

Where this need or habit to compare and rate comes from, I do not know, but I do believe I'll be happier when I can stop. I like peach pie and I like cherry pie. I like fine-china and glazed pottery. I like several labels of Sangiovese. 

I am however, drawing the line at restaurants, and this is where Roosevelt makes things most confusing for me. Let's take Thai food as an example... 

We have such great Thai restaurants in Dallas, and W and I frequent many of them, preferring certain things at certain places. We both love two particular noodle dishes at Thai Soon, and the shrimp fried rice (add cashews) at Banana Leaf.  Appetizers at Royal Thai always offer something unique. The husband & wife team at Ruang Thai presents a delicious meal in a most welcoming way, while a couple other places have good food but are off-puttingly-cool to customers. And in contrast, there's the much appreciated BYOB with no corkage fee offered at several. 

So, if on a Friday night we've a hankering for the crispiest egg rolls and corn patties, or a green over a red curry, is it wrong to compare? I think not, but it certainly makes a New Year's Resolution trickier. 

Without comparison, I will simply say, I do so love January! 

The month is a much-needed breather for me, a calm after chaos. Coming days will be slowed down from post-holiday weariness, or the weather, or by my pure selfish preference. Excess diminishes, quiet prevails. January becomes not a comparison, just a truth; that was then, this is now.

 I'm finding joy in the now.