We had a small but grand Mardi Gras dinner on Sunday, which M.P. did nearly all the cooking of, as well as making the festive table decorations.
Le Menu
Breaded Chicken Pops
Fried Oysters
Tartar sauce and cocktail sauce
Chicken and Sausage Gumbo
Southern-style Potato Salad
Duck a l'Orange Sanguine
Savory Rice Stuffing
Brown Duck Gravy
Diced and glazed Butternut Squash
Schoolhouse Rolls and butter
King Cake
White Zinfandel ~~ Beer ~~ Cola ~~ Coffee
Assorted chocolates
Cigarettes
Now this may not look like much to the uninitiated; but the gourmets among you will recognize at once a feast fit for a couple of kings.
The appetizers began with what we call chicken pops, a scrumptious and amusing treat that M.P. learned how to make from this Jacques Pepin video (it's right at the beginning); these he breaded and baked in the oven for tenderness, but they could be deep fried. They look sort of like this:
Along with that, we had my favorite seafood, a dozen fabulous fried oysters, which M.P. had slipped out of the house the day before to get from the local Cajun restaurant, where they do them to perfection. He said it was quite difficult to hold off eating them for 24 hours, and it surely must have been because there is nothing better in all the world than a perfectly fried oyster. Those who love oysters need no further description; those who don't, well, I'm just sorry as I can be for you, fellas.
As far as I was concerned, we could have stopped right there - but, saving a few oysters for a midnight snack, we proceeded directly on to the gumbo, served Cajun-style with a big spoonful of potato salad dropped in. You talk about good, boys! Oh me, oh my - it was larruppin' good! I tell you what. Especially with a few choice bits of duck thrown in for lagniappe. Heavenly! I told M.P. he has ruined me for rice now.
And then on to the piece de resistance - M.P. labored two days running on his succulent roast duck, and it was a grand dish indeed, glazed with a sauce made from the juice of blood oranges and their zest, stuffed with seasoned rice, and accompanied by a delicious gravy made from the duck drippings and the blood-orange sauce. He roasted the duck low and slow to make it perfectly tender and moist, and when I put the first forkful on my tongue - oh my, words fail me to describe the delectable flavor of it all.
M.P. has been struggling for several years now to learn how to take pictures with the new-fangled teleophone that his kids insisted he have, and he has nearly succeeded. Here is his snap of the finished duck, steaming hot from the oven:
Every part of the duck was melt-in-your-mouth tender, including the scrumptious skin. And with it we had the orange-flavored rice stuffing, upon which we ladled the brown and fragrant duck gravy. It was one of those supreme culinary moments, divinely delicious and palate-pleasing, that I wish I could share with everyone. But until someone invents a tele-food-o-phone, you'll just have to take my word for it, fellas. Superb!
I must not omit to tell you about the schoolhouse rolls that M.P. has taught himself to make over the last few years - they are just exactly like those big, square, butter-brushed, soft-and-tasty yeast rolls you remember from the school cafeteria in years gone by - a treat with any meal. And so good for sopping up gravy! Like these:
M.P. certainly knocked himself out on the menu, but hardly less on the table decor, complete with a newly-sewn table scarf in Mardi Gras colors, and purple candles to boot!
Notice the beautiful fleur-de-lys napkin fold that is M.P.'s trademark.
For dessert, we of course had King Cake, which M.P. made by hand from his homemade croissant dough, rolled up with a cinnamon-sugar filling and topped with purple, green, and gold icing, which looked something like this:
Neither of us got the Baby Jesus, but we were too full and groaning with delight to worry about it.
Our feast was not as big this year as in years past, but it was no less satisfying. And to think those lucky souls down in Loozyana eat like this all the time! It's almost enough to make a fella want to convert, I tell you what. All us Epistopals ever get is a stack of soggy pancakes in the back of the parish hall on Shrove Tuesday. But the Cath'licks - now they know how to party! In fact, M.P. tells me the whole season from Epiphany to Lent is just one party after another - surely a blessed way to keep the winter blues at bay.
We will have luscious leftovers for days, I mean days. Wish I could hand you all a plate.
Laissez les bon temps rouler!
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