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Three Little Pigs Charcuterie: build the house with the best apéro hour…
Your home is lovely. It’s filled with your stuff–and more importantly than that–it’s filled with your memories. You have a sofa. You have a few books. Maybe a painting or a fruit basket. You have meals eaten with people you cherish. The spot on the carpet from where your best friend spilled Merlot; perhaps you don’t love the stain that it left, but you’ll always cherish the memories of how you laughed and laughed that evening. You have lightbulbs, trinkets, and toilet paper. But you know what your house is missing? It’s not a Pottery Barn rug, or an eames chair, or a swimming pool: it’s apéro hour.
The word “apéro” is short for “apéritif,” which comes from the Latin “aperire,” meaning “to open”. This is because, in French tradition, apéro is always the opening of a wonderful evening. It is the time of pre-dinner drinks and snacks. Shared with friends and family, apéro hour symbolises the winding down of the day. Work is done. Daylight is fading. Our shoulders relax. We breathe a sigh of relief and sip something splendid. To enjoy apéro is to acknowledge that nothing more can be achieved this day but pleasure–hedonists rejoice! Apéro is our playground.
Though this tradition is inarguably French, it’s certainly snuck its way into other cultures. Even Americans (as uncouth as we may be) are starting to embrace the apéro. Maybe it’s because apéro hour is the logical antithesis of hustle culture–one of our greatest cultural failings. Perhaps you’re feeling stunned, stupefied, or even mystified by what I’m asserting. I can hear your contention already: if the point of apéro is relaxation, wouldn’t hosting one simply put more work on my plate? To this I say, “You have much to learn, young grasshopper.” The whole point is making it easy-breezy, effortless, and très élégante–but never stuffy or overly formal. Frankie may have said “relax,” but apéro hour insists it more fervently.
So, what is served during apéro? Traditionally, you’ll have lower ABV drinks like wines, beers, and even some cocktails. Aperol Spritz, Negroni, and Kir Royale are all popular apéro hour sips–but nobody is going to be angry if you serve up a martini. To nibble, we’ll need finger foods like crudité, cured meats, cheeses, olives, and crackers. The main objective of the apéro hour is socialization: noms, noshes, and nips take a back seat to the primary objective. Want to take things a step further? Ask yourself this question: am I crafting an apéro hour or an apéro dinatoire? Apéro is for light fare and drinks. Easy, accessible, and a delicious predecessor to any dinner. But in the heat of summer–when it’s too hot to move your body, let alone turn on the oven–you might consider serving the apéro dinatoire. Often served in lieu of dinner, the apéro dinatoire is France’s answer to picky-bits in the garden on a hot summer evening. Take everything that you’d traditionally find served during an apéro hour, but add tartines and shellfish. Don’t panic if you don’t know what a tartine is. It’s okay, baby; not knowing something is the first step to learning something new. A tartine is basically just a fancy word for bread with stuff on it. If you’ve eaten bruschetta or avocado toast, you’ve basically already had a tartine. Toppings can be savory or sweet, the possibilities are endless.
As Americans, apéro may feel foreign to us. Perhaps you wish to embrace this tradition, but don’t know where to start. Like a Christian kid who just got invited to their friend’s house to celebrate Rosh Hashanah: you’ll need a guide to this new experience. I volunteer to be your sherpa. In order to build the best apéro hour, you simply need the right tools in your toolbox. Once you’ve amassed the correct tools, the construction becomes easy, effortless, and oh-so-satisfying. In the spirit of keeping things simple, I recommend finding a single company that basically specializes in all-things-apéro. You’re asking yourself whether such a company could possibly provide a person with the prospective proponents of a perfect apéro hour. My sweet summer child, allow me to introduce you to Three Little Pigs Charcuterie. They recently sent me a box of goodies so that I could host an epic apéro–though this could easily have been enhanced into an apéro dinatoire. These are all the Three Little Pigs products you could possibly need for an epic apéro hour. Pick and choose to cultivate something that fits your personal taste. Ultimately, the best apéro hour is the one that makes you the happiest.
Charcuterie Trio–the most basic tool in your arsenal and your best friend when building your apéro hour spread. You can order this online or grab it last minute at your local Kroger. You don’t have to put thought into what charcuterie to provide, because Three Little Pigs has literally done all of the work for you. The trio includes prosciutto, soppressata, and pepperoni. These salty little bites of meat will satisfy adventurous eaters and finicky pickers alike. The best part? This is truly an “open the package and transfer to a pretty plate” scenario. Effort is overrated.
Sliced Saucisson Sec–honestly, one of my favorite bites of the evening. I think picky eaters will still enjoy this, but it’s definitely a slightly elevated charcuterie offering. This super-thinly sliced pork sausage has garlic, spices, and a bit of swiss chard culminating in a uniquely French flavor. (Put any leftovers on a sandwich. You’re welcome.) Similarly to the charcuterie trio, this is another situation where all you have to do is open the packaging and transfer the saucisson sec to a pretty plate or serving board. What’s the common refrain? Effort is overrated.
Belleforte Alpine-Style Cheese–this 100% cow’s milk cheese hails from the Rhône-Alpes region of France. I will be honest with you, when I unwrapped this cheese and began cutting it for my apéro hour, my partner was in the kitchen and asked, “What smells like feet?” Is the aroma pungent? Yes. Could it be off-putting for some people? Perhaps. Will your guests notice the bouquet of this cheese if you’re serving it outside? Nope, probably not. It’s the perfect cheese for your apéro hour because it’s a little fruity, a little sweet, a little nutty, and ultra creamy while still holding together well enough to be cut into cute little bite-sized pieces. Snack it between bites of charcuterie or with a handful of walnuts. It’s the cheese your guests may have never heard of, but will definitely ask for it to be included at the next apéro hour.
Agour Ossau-Iraty Cheese–this 100% sheep milk cheese is less challenging than the Belleforte. With virtually no aroma, the Agour Ossau-Iraty pairs well with most things. Firm yet creamy, rich and nutty, and a fantastic accompaniment to a glass of Bordeaux or any big, red wine. This cheese gets along well with everyone, making it the perfect addition to any apéro hour. Turn any leftovers into grilled cheese.
Bloc de Foie de Canard–my absolute favorite, but less beloved by my friends. It comes down to texture. Some people prefer something with more chew. I am not one of those people. Give me ultra-creamy fattened duck liver to spread on toast and I’m a very, very, very happy girl. Three Little Pigs keeps their ingredients simple. This ultra flavorful foie is made of fattened duck liver, Sauternes, cream, salt, Cognac, sugar, and spices. It is traditional in every sense of the word. It is elegant, indulgent, and–in my humble opinion–the best way to elevate your apéro hour. Will everyone agree with me? No, perhaps not–but those people are wrong.
Rillettes de Canard–to keep things fair and honest, this was my least favorite apéro hour offering, but it was the most beloved by my friends. Do I like these duck rillettes? Yes I do. I’ve eaten it before and I will eat it again–but I could, frankly, take it or leave it. This is effectively confit-style duck; slow cooked into succulent, soft ribbons. This is the MVP for those who crave texture in a way that Foie does not provide.
Mousse de Canard au Foie Gras–a terrine that could be described as ‘the best of both worlds.’ A heavenly combination of duck Foie Gras and duck meat are subtly sweetened with grapes, raisins, and Sauternes. The flavor of this is unmatched. The only potential downside of this delightful dish? It’s topped with aspic. For the uninitiated, I’ll politely describe aspic as meat jelly. It’s just a thin layer on top. Some people love it but many do not. The saving grace? If you find aspic to be challenging, you can simply remove the layer from the top of this terrine and enjoy the Mousse de Canard au Foie Gras that lies beneath.
Mousse du Périgord–if duck isn’t your thing, that’s no problem. The Mousse du Périgord is the pièce de résistance of any truly elegant apéro dinatoire. I am of the mind that, if nothing else, this should be on your table. This creamy and decadent combination of chicken and turkey liver, black truffle, and sherry is certain to impress your guests. I could very honestly eat an entire container of this by myself–and I very well may do so in the near future. The second-best thing about apéro dinatoire is the leftovers. (The first-best thing about it is enjoying time, drinks, and good food with good friends without turning on a single kitchen appliance.) A sneaky bit of leftover truffled pâté to enjoy late at night on your sofa or perhaps on the kitchen floor by the haunting light of your refrigerator–that’s just a bonus.
Petits Toasts–unfortunately, I can’t tell you from personal experience if these taste good, because they’re not gluten-free so I’m unable to enjoy them. But you know who seemed to enjoy them very much? My friends. These gorgeous, perfectly shaped little toasts provide the most apropos vehicle for delivering pâté to your gaping maw in a dignified fashion. Flawlessly crisp right out of the package, there’s nothing for you to do but plate them up. Without having eaten one myself, I still strongly endorse these toasts. Your friends will thank you for providing them.
Olives Vertes Lucques–sure you can buy olives anywhere, but why would you when you can buy these olives. With pits intact, providing the absolute best textural experience, these salty, sexy, little green babies are imported from France. Why choose French olives when Mediterranean olives are quelle authentique? Because we’re having a French snacktime and if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: what grows together goes together. Grown in sunny Provence, the Olives Vertes Lucques have an unusual crescent shape and a perfect flavor to compliment a gin martini.
“Traditional” Cornichons – there are three varieties of Cornichon produced by Three Little Pigs. The Cornichons à l’américaine are basically their version of a bread and butter pickle. Delicious for snacking, but maybe not the most authentic pick for apéro. We snacked on their Traditional Cornichons and used them to make excellent martinis. Whether utilizing gin or vodka, these customary, teeny-tiny, French pickles make delicious cocktails. But, if you’re feeling a little spicy, I’d also recommend using their Cornichons Piquants in your next martini. I’m sure we’re all well aware that the drink trend of Summer 2025 is putting frozen jalapeños in your Sauvy B. I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s a bit pedestrian and overplayed at this point. Elevate your game with a Spicy Cornichon Martini. You’re anything but basic, so craft a cocktail that’s as interesting as you are.
Are you overwhelmed? Did I give you too much to chew on? It’s okay, you can relax. That’s what apéro is all about. You don’t have to remember every line of data I’ve dutifully delivered to your doorstep. Once you get some apéro hours in you will start to form your own opinions of what’s right for your apéro. But if it’s your first time crafting an apéro hour for you and yours,’ there’s only one thing you need to remember: there’s no need to huff and puff and blow a bunch of time and money down at your local multi-billion dollar grocery chain. Three Little Pigs can take you in and teach you how to build your apéro tradition from the ground up.
Oh, and one last thing. You can order your apéro materials at their site, 3pigs.com and use the discount code PLONKANDPLEASURE for 10% off your entire order. Don’t say I never gave you anything. -
Rune x Daylily Estates: everything is sunlight…
“Wine is sunlight held together by water.” Solid quote. Thanks, Galileo. It’s poetic yet scientific, reverent and kind of cheeky at the same time, but did you know that he dropped even more knowledge in the next sentence? It might not fit on a cross stitch but check it: “The light of a sun, with all those planets revolving around it and dependent on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do.” Encapsulated in the picturesque aging brick walls of Rune, I found myself dwelling on this quote amongst the clatter of a busy dining room full of conversations, praise, clinking of glasses, and gulps. Last April, I was afforded the privilege of visiting Daylily Estates. Amongst the young vines of this infant vineyard, I met three amazing gentlemen who, together, craft wines that changed the way I think about our region’s capacity for exceptional winemaking. From my first sip, I have always felt certain these wines will root deep in our community–becoming ever vital–and go on to grow and branch far beyond the small reaches of Northeastern Indiana. I’ve long dreamt of putting Daylily into words in a way that will truly do their wines justice: but I think Galileo beat me to the punch. However, I’ve got something on Galileo–because he never got to indulge in a Rune x Daylily Estates wine pairing dinner. Somehow, without ever really knowing, I always knew we would end up here: the intersection of low-intervention, environmentally conscious local wines, and produce forward, forage-featured, fine dining cuisine. The wines of Daylily Estates and the food of Rune belong together. It just makes sense.
The first course was Welsh Rarebit on rye toast with bone marrow. As this was the only plate of the evening that wasn’t naturally gluten free, Chef Sean subbed my rye toast out for celery root. It was bomb to say the very least. My bestie, who was able to dine with me this evening, took a bite of my celery root-centric Welsh Rarebit and got a little jealous. Was it possibly even better than the regular dish? Who’s to say. All I know is, I live for moments with frico cheese. Those crispy bits are absolutely sensational. This plate was paired with Daylily Estates Brianna Pét-Nat. This is, I believe, the first Pét-Nat I tried from Daylily last year and it’s no secret that I fell in love with them at first sip. Brianna is a grape that tends to give more tropical fruit notes and this Pét-Nat captures that sort of bright pineapple fruitiness perfectly. With lively bubbles and a strong nose, this vivacious wine paired beautifully with the rarebit and really aided in lifting what could otherwise have been a heavy start to the meal. They set a high bar out of the gate.The second plate of the evening was somehow nothing like I expected but also exceeded all expectations. Gorgeously charred sweet potato was dressed with maple and an exquisite carrot romesco. Spoiler alert: this may have been my favorite plate of the evening. The color and texture of the sweet potato was beyond reproach–the sort of perfection one only dreams about achieving. The carrot romesco, a hefty artistic schmeer along the side of the dish, was almost too complex in flavor for me to describe with words. I’m afraid I don’t know how to do it justice. It evades me. The sweetness of carrot but with the additional brightness of vinegar; a complex and rich dance for which the English language does not yet have the right words. I found myself in a sea of varying guttural, animalistic sounds that all translate to the same prelinguistic concept: yum. What a mantra. To pair, Daylily Estates Delaware Pét-Nat. If their Brianna Pét-Nat is the fun party girl who dances on the table and makes friends everywhere she goes, the Delaware Pét-Nat is the girl who holds her hair in the bathroom and makes sure she gets home safely. With subdued aromas of clementine and yellow apple, the Delaware Pét-Nat isn’t showy or boisterous but still makes its presence known with subtle elegance. The Grace Kelly of Pét-Nats. Utterly sippable, this wine served as a dashing counterpart to what, in my opinion, may have been the best plate of the evening.
Next, Chef Sean entered his beige plate era: which I’m not mad about. Beige food is usually delicious and, frankly, beautiful in its own way. A hash brown topped with chicken hearts lounging in a beige sea of beurre blanc–yum. This was my first time eating chicken heart and, honestly, I neither liked nor disliked it. I found the texture just a little tougher than I might have preferred. I struggled to get a bite of chicken heart and a bite of hash brown onto my fork at the same time. In terms of flavor, this dish was a 10/10. Honestly, if it had been anything less, I would have been bummed out–especially because this is the plate that paired with what is, perhaps, my favorite Daylily Estates wine: Catawba Pét-Nat. It’s no secret that I love Catawba. It’s also no secret that I love Pét-Nat. Pair the two together and holy guacamole, Batman! I’ve died and gone to a better place. (A place with Catawba Pét-Nat and an endless supply of delicious beige foods. I’m not coming back. Forward my mail.) With lush notes of Strawberry, Watermelon Jolly Ranchers, and a delicate fizz: this pretty pink wine is like an ideal accessory. That is to say, it goes with just about anything. It elevates whatever it’s with. But, to boot, it’s kind of stellar alone, too. Dare I say, she’s the Swiss Army Knife of Pét-Nats if Phyllis Nefler of Troop Beverly Hills had designed a Swiss Army Knife. (If you don’t get this reference, I feel sorry for you. I also feel sorry for me, because it was a really good reference and I wasted it on you.)
Our penultimate course was pork belly with risotto, and a sort of turmeric pickled celery root. This plate fights scrappily to hold the coveted spot of ‘best plate of the evening.’ Try as it might, I’m not sure it will dethrone the sweet potato dish: but damn, that pork belly was succulent. Perfectly crisp outside and utterly luscious interior: Chef Sean and his brilliant team can do no wrong in my books. This is one of those optimal examinations of salt, fat, and acid playing gorgeously together to create something greater than the sum of their parts. It only made sense to sip Daylily Estates Traminette alongside this radically delicious dish. I hate to quote myself, but I’m going to do it anyway. I once wrote, “Y’all, I don’t know what you already know, but Traminette is the state grape of Indiana. I had yet to find a Traminette that fired me up until Daylily Estates showed up and said, ‘Bet.’ It’s our fucking state grape, people. We should be producing wine that actually does it justice. We have so much to offer. We simply have to put in the effort to create something worthwhile. Daylily Estates gets it.” I said it. I meant it. I stand by it. However, I take the other thing back: I don’t hate to quote myself, it’s a pretty dope quote. This Traminette is so unlike other Traminettes I’ve tried in Indiana. My bestie and I got into a discussion of one that we tried once that tasted like Pine-Sol. The flavor is burned into my tastebuds and I don’t mean that as a compliment. All I can really say of Daylily’s Traminette is that its flavors are delicate yet complex: slightly floral, slightly fruity, a little spice, and perhaps there’s a delicate touch of pine–or maybe that’s just a bad dream. Either way, I went home from the tasting dinner, retrieved my bottle of Daylily Estates Traminette from my wine rack, chilled it down until it was time to pour myself a glass and get writing. I’m currently still sipping it. This is what Indiana is supposed to taste like.I was nervous to try the final course of the evening–and I suspect I wasn’t the only one. Pairing Daylily Estates 2024 Nouveau with a PB&J-inspired dessert didn’t seem like an obviously smart choice to me. Clearly, this is why Chef Sean has been nominated for the James Beard award twice now and I have not been nominated for anything ever. Peanut, crème diplomat, and blackberry created what I can say is, without any doubt or hesitation, the best iteration of a PB&J I’ve ever enjoyed. Hot take, kiddos: I hate PB&J. It’s a dumb concept and I avoid it at any cost. PB&J lovers, live your best life–no tea, no shade, no pink lemonade, and also no PB&J for me specifically unless it’s a repeat of this scrumptious little treat. Though Nouveau is ultra cherry forward, heavily featuring the Maréchal Foch grape, its other dark and red berries played nicely with this dessert. Was I worried about the tannins against the sweetness of this final dish? Perhaps. Should I have been? Unequivocally, nope! The ultra creamy crème diplomat really aided in smoothing out the tannins of this young red wine. I’ve talked a big game about my favorite dishes of the evening, but this is actually the pairing that I’d have again right this very moment if Chef Sean DMed me after their final seating and told me that he had an extra plate of it left over or something. I mean, a girl can dream. But for real: I would rush there in my pajamas. I do not care how cold it is outside. I want more, more, more. And now that I’m really thinking about it, this stands true for all of the plates and pairings of this evening. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do again, happily.
By the time I left Rune, the sun had gone to bed and been fast asleep for several hours. The temperature was cut in half, the air was bitter, and the only light outside was from streetlights, passing cars, and kindred spirits whose Christmas lights are still up three weeks into the new year. Even though my body was cold and shivering right up until I finally got into my house long enough to start warming up, somehow there was still some kind of warmth deep inside me that hadn’t faded and won’t fade anytime soon. It’s a warmth and a brightness that is so very vital in the winter months. You already know what it is. Remember what Galileo said? “Wine is sunlight held together by water.” But something feels off about that quote here. It’s not complete. Not because it needs the explainerism GG tagged it with originally, but because there’s so much more sunlight in the world, some that he couldn’t have even known about back in the 15th century. Sweet potatoes are sunlight. Pork belly is sunlight. Rune’s hostess tonight was sunlight for me when she said that Troy from Daylily called me their biggest fan. Troy is sunlight, making every table feel like they’re the only people in the restaurant every time he came around to pour the next wine pairing. Chef Sean is sunlight, not just because he graciously shares his gifts with Fort Wayne—but because he was willing to make it possible for me to safely enjoy this incredible tasting dinner. I think we are a reflection of all that is around us and all that we take in: the food, the wine, the friendships. I am so grateful to have been surrounded by sunlight this evening.
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First Love, Then Wheat: the lingering taste of loss…
I spent my summer saying goodbye to things that I had previously believed held permanent placements in my life. First love, then wheat. Loss is a terrifying thing because, more often than not, we don’t see it coming. One night, you’re falling asleep soundly after receiving a ‘Sweet Dreams’ text from the person you trust most deeply with every secret inch of your soul. The next evening, you’re sobbing and telling them never to speak to you again. One night, you can’t sleep–so instead you find yourself in your kitchen baking a loaf of bread. The next morning, you go for a walk with your dear friend and discuss your shared love of toast. You then go home and eat a nice, buttered slice. Your throat begins to tighten: this gives way to a slew of other unmentionable and horrifying symptoms. You end out your day in emergency care, with a needle in your ass, and a new found fear. Yesterday you could eat anything you wanted to–but from today forward, you can’t.
I was sick for weeks after the encounter. Though wheat was the initial suspected culprit of my despair, other foods began to cause trouble. Things that I’d long considered “safe” foods when I was feeling unwell, the comfort foods of my childhood, were no longer a viable option. I was down to sipping bone broth and begging the universe to not let it make me feel awful–and some days the universe listened, but other days I guess it couldn’t hear me. I rapidly lost fifteen pounds–then more. I was allergy tested for the second time in my life; eighty needles in my back only to learn that women can receive false negatives if they are tested while on their period. (Perhaps this is something that we should warn women about before sticking them with eighty needles.) I went through rounds of bloodwork and endured multiple blown veins. The poking and prodding felt endless–as if I were some sort of human pin cushion. Answers didn’t come easily. In fact, for a time, it felt like no answers came at all. Even when answers did finally come, I found myself extremely unwell for the next few months while we worked to figure out which medications and lifestyle changes were helpful and which weren’t helping at all.
When I realized that the course of my life was forever altered by my body’s sudden proclivity for malfunctioning–especially in reaction to the simple act of eating–I didn’t handle the news well. I grieved intensely. I had been slowly but surely working to build a career as a food and wine writer. So, now what? How could I follow this path when I suddenly couldn’t safely eat? It felt like a fatal blow. There is so much in life that I’ve dreamed of experiencing but have not yet had the opportunity to achieve. In a moment, my life was irreversibly altered by a slice of buttered toast. I should have been worried about my health. Instead I cried to myself: now I’ll never eat pasta in Italy. I’ll never have a croissant in Paris. I can’t just pop down to the pub for a pint with you. And how could you ever love someone so complicated? You could never love someone who can’t simply go out, carefree, and graze from the menu of life without questioning what allergens might be present–or which food my body would suddenly decide was unsafe today–and would it be a mere inconvenience or ultimately fatal.
I tied my self worth to all that I’d achieved since beginning Plonk & Pleasure; it had become my entire identity. To lose love was one thing, but to lose wheat felt like more than just an omen: it felt like losing myself entirely. Once love and wheat were ripped from my life, I found I didn’t know myself at all. With them gone, there wasn’t much left to me. Was I cursed to lose everything that I ever held dear? If I’m not the girl swilling wine, eating pizza, and telling you all about my most recent restaurant escapade: who am I?
Eventually, the veil was lifted. The unknown came to light. I began, for the first time in a very long time, to have answers. I’ve gained the knowledge of what’s “wrong” with me and how to, at least for now, treat it the best that we can. If you wonder why I’m such a cranky bitch half the time, it’s because my cells are constantly shadowboxing nonexistent threats. I haven’t lost wheat per se–but I have lost gluten. I didn’t lose your love: because you can’t lose something that you never really had. Now you’re just one more thing, in an ever growing list of things, to which my body poorly reacts. I’m currently embarking on a journey. I can’t call it a healing journey: because there’s no cure for what ails me. But, I suppose, it’s a journey towards being a healthier and happier version of myself.
Brain fog is a side effect of the disorder that I have. With any luck, I’ll forget all the bullshit that you put me through. I’ll forget the taste of a real croissant. I’ll forget the magic of combining eggs, flour, and a little olive oil to manifest fresh pasta on a whim. I’ll forget the joy that Johnny Ox pizza used to bring me. (Just kidding–I’ll never forget how fucking good Johnny Ox is.) The memories of everything but pizza will get hazy and grow distant. I’ll forget: but I won’t forgive. Just because I can handle pain doesn’t mean that it’s been easy for me–or fair. I’m a girl who’s always, gladly, suffered for my art. But ultimately, I think some things aren’t worth hurting myself for. Your approval? Not worth it. Your love? Not worth it. Johnny Ox pizza? I’d happily die just to taste one last slice. Priorities, baby.
I was never your priority. Sure, you liked my writing. You liked the ego boost that I provided. You liked when I exalted you above all others–because you have a praise kink and nobody can fault you for that. But, let’s be honest. At the end of the day, you always left me footing the bill. You want everything for free even though everybody knows that nothing in this world comes without a cost. I paid with both my mental and physical health. So, consider this my final notice–I’m so done giving more than I receive from you. I’m done pretending that everything is perfect. I may have lost the ability to eat gluten, but you lost something more vital: me. I’ll be fine. You’ll just keep on being you.
Loss is subjective. What have I lost, really? Nothing. I’ve gained more than I’ve lost. Now I have answers as to why I’ve felt so awful and what I can do going forward to help combat it. As for my future? It turns out, Italy is full of amazing gluten free pasta, there are gluten free croissants in Paris, and the world is still my oyster–because oysters are gluten free. And while most gluten free bread tastes like cardboard, there are options that rival the “real deal” if you know where to look. Eating gluten free should come with some sort of government stipend because the groceries are infinitely more expensive. However, this has forced me to plan and prioritize more than I’ve ever had to before in my life: which helps me to discover what’s really important to me. So no, I can’t pop down to the pub for a beer with you–but I don’t want to. I’ll drink cider in the fall and wine the rest of the time. First love, then wheat: the things I thought I’d lost, but I was mistaken.
So, my life has changed forever? That’s cool. There’s a lot of local places that I can’t eat anymore? That’s fine. Obviously, Plonk & Pleasure as you knew it won’t ever exist again. But, you’ll still see me posting and writing from time to time: because nothing short of death will stop me from being the girl swilling wine, eating pizza, and telling you all about my most recent restaurant escapade. Like, try to make me shut up about Daylily Estates–-it will never fucking happen. They’re amazing and I need to shout about it. There will be some businesses that I still love but simply can no longer support for my own health and safety. Sometimes it’s best to love something from a safe distance.
I may have built this brand from the ground up, but henceforth I’ll be driving it like I stole it. Buckle up for gluten free snack and wine pairings, adventures in finding the most tolerable gluten free pizzas, and shameless praise of my favorite local winery. You’ve got to take the rough with the smooth, the bad with the good, and the plonk with the pleasure. Life’s not all rainbows and butterflies: sometimes it’s bottom shelf Merlot and gluten free pizza. For a girl who’s lost so much in the past year, you’d think I’d be more devastated than I am. But honestly, I’ve never been happier. It’s weird how losing something (or someone) can make your life so much better, easier, and blissful. Sometimes you have to kill a piece of yourself to keep living. The parts of me that I haven’t yet buried are ready to wreak some havoc, Fort Wayne. Babe, wake up–Plonk & Pleasure is back and she’s thirsty as fuck.
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Leah’s Little Blue Kitchen: little kitchen, big flavors…
You’ll often hear people prattle on about how baking is a science and cooking is an art. While, yes, at its core this sentiment is true: baked goods that lack artistry will always be sadly, well, lacking. My favorite author once penned the phrase, “People who sacrifice beauty for efficiency get what they deserve.” Tom Robbins definitely wasn’t talking about food, but as far as I’m concerned, he might as well have been. We eat with our eyes first. Beauty and food are so tightly and irreversibly entwined that there’s no separating the two. Let’s take cake as an example. Sure, when I’m eating cake I most definitely want it to be scrumptious–but would I prefer that it be beautiful or efficient? The most purely efficient cake would probably be a single layer cake, served in the same pan that it was cooked in, with frosting haphazardly dashed across the top. It gets the job done: nobody can argue its efficiency. But a beautiful cake is another story entirely. Can you envision a tall and stunning cake with several layers, or some bedazzling of sprinkles, or with carefully piped ribbons of frosting in the most lovely variety of hues? That cake isn’t just a treat to stave off hunger: it’s art. Maybe I’m vain, but I’d choose a beautiful cake over an efficient one most days of the week. Leah of Leah’s Little Blue Kitchen doesn’t make you choose between beauty and efficiency. Both artist and baker, Leah’s baked goods marry the worlds of science and art in delicious union and result in sweet treats that will have you in awe of her artisanship.
I only met Leah in person for the first time a few days ago. Because I am a constant ball of anxiety, I arrived early to our meeting place–a bustling downtown coffee shop. I ordered the thing I craved most but needed least in that exact moment: caffeine. Amongst the chaos of early Saturday afternoon farmers market fiends and post-brunch babes, all inhaling caffeine and exhaling exhausting exuberance, I waited. Quietly. At a table that was, by some miracle, vacant at the exact moment that I needed it to be. I sat wondering if I’d recognize Leah when she entered the frenzied throng. As soon as she entered the room it became evident to me: Leah is unmistakable in any room. Perhaps the giant boxes of cake and cookies that she carried gave her away, but the sentimentalist in me believes that I would have recognized her even without her tell-tale baked goods. Sometimes we say that somebody is like a ‘ray of sunshine’ in the way that they light up a room when they walk in. Leah isn’t that–and thank god, because how boring would that be! All sunshine all the time? No storms? No snow? No night? No thanks. Leah is more like the first cool, crisp morning of autumn–a welcome gasp of cold air as reprieve from the undaunting summer sunshine that nearly melted us alive. Her presence is felt and makes all the difference.
If you don’t know Leah yet, you will soon. I predict she’ll be blowing up the Fort Wayne food scene any day now. You’ve probably seen her baked goods online or around town; you just don’t realize it. Her hand painted sugar cookies have been previously featured in Fort Wayne Food Slut’s Instagram stories–which, as we all know, is a huge honor. Then recently, her “Cookie Therapy” cookies were available at The Cauldron’s grand re-opening event. These cookies are iconic. She makes them big and it’s a whole mood. While she’s super capable of making her own delicious spins on classics (like The Girl Next Door which is basically just the sexiest version of a salted chocolate chip cookie that exists) it’s her slightly more adventurous creations where her creativity and craftsmanship really shine. Like, how did she know that I would want to eat a cookie called When Life Gives You Lemons: a lemony cookie with white chocolate chips that gets stuffed with a blueberry pie filling. Now, read that sentence again to make sure you comprehend everything because, yes–this girl is stuffing many of her colossal cookies with jammy, fudgey, and gooey interiors.
Recently, I had the absolute honor of having Leah craft the official Plonk & Pleasure cookie. This intensely chocolatey cookie is soft and just slightly chewy. The interior is packed full of a red wine ganache made utilizing dark chocolate from Debrand’s and Two EE’s Plonqe. This sweet red wine ganache plays beautifully against the bitterness of the chocolate, highlighting the natural fruity undertones. It is decadent; an absolute indulgence. My brain says I want to eat ten of them, but I’m pretty sure my body can only handle one cookie at a time–these things really are hefty!While I could rave on endlessly about Leah’s brilliant and beautiful cookies, I’d be remiss not to mention that she bakes other treats, too. She’s been baking for her entire life. Literally, she’s been doing it for so long that she can’t even remember when or how she started: her baking is so entirely enmeshed with her personhood that it’s become a vital part of her. So, it’s no surprise that her cakes are just as ridiculously indulgent as her cookies. I got to try her cakes recently when I was surprised with the gift of several beautifully decorated cupcakes and a small layer cake–because you can’t be sad if you’re eating delicious cake! The cake was beyond moist–sorry if you’re triggered by me using that word, but I think moist things are some of the best things in life. The cake utilized a very dark cocoa; I surmise it may have been heavily alkalized black cocoa. It lacked much of the typical bitterness of very dark chocolate and, instead, provided a really smooth and robust flavor. I love chocolate as much as the next chocoholic, but I’m not one to typically just take a plain chocolate cake with vanilla frosting to the face. It’s the kind of flavor combo where ‘one and done’ more than satisfies my craving. When I tell you that this cake has me in a vice grip, I am not even remotely over-exaggerating. I have had this cake for breakfast, lunch, and a bedtime snack. I even took a cupcake into the shower with me: because I needed to shower, but I also needed a little treat. Don’t judge, you’d do it too.
Before you go, I feel I should leave you with a warning; a disclaimer of sorts. If you’re anything like me, once you’ve indulged in sweets from Leah’s Little Blue Kitchen, you might find your mind wandering back to them anytime or anywhere. I saw a chocolate cake on television and had the sudden realization that Leah’s chocolate cake is the only one that I really care about anymore. I looked up at the moon and for some reason all I could think of was Leah’s cookies. I find myself daydreaming about what kind of future orders I’d like to request from Leah’s Little Blue Kitchen. She’s a cottage crafter, so you can simply DM her for orders. My bestie asked if Leah could make a chocolate cake with cookies and cream frosting. I can’t wait to get my hands on Leah’s hand-painted sugar cookies–they look almost too pretty to eat. Leah’s talent knows no bounds.
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The Pea Tasting Dinner at Junk Ditch: peas got the princess treatment…
There’s a fairytale about a princess and a pea. You’ve probably heard it before. If you haven’t, the gist is essentially that a princess is faced with a test: to sleep on a thousand towering mattresses underneath which has been placed one, tiny pea. If she’s a real princess, her disposition will be so delicate that the pea will disturb her slumber. Only after passing this test can she marry the prince. Logically, we all know that a tender pea would smoosh beneath the weight of all those mattresses–because peas are the princesses of the vegetable world. (Yeah, yeah, yeah: peas aren’t vegetables, they’re legumes. I’m speaking colloquially. Don’t be a turnip about it–because turnips are the assholes of the vegetable world.)
Delicate, sweet, and tender–peas are what little girls were taught they should be by a gender-role-conforming society. The flavor of peas is so delicate that they can easily be overpowered and lost in a dish. To most palates, peas are inoffensive for this reason. They’re easy to stomach. So what happens when we stop pushing peas to the side of the plate–rendering them merely a supporting role to a meaty main dish–and start exalting them for their inherent natural beauty and innately special qualities? Alchemy. That’s what we experienced at The Pea Tasting Dinner at Junk Ditch last evening–pure alchemy. The menu didn’t just utilize peas–all P’s were present from pasta, to peaches, to prosciutto and other pork products. (See what I did there?)
The amuse-bouche was a parmigiano-reggiano crisp topped with several dollops of goat cheese mousse, shallot, greens, pickled mustard, and of course–peas. This delicate bite was slightly precarious to eat daintily, but the symphony of flavors made the dangerous feat more than worth it. This canape-adjacent treat is something that I would more than happily enjoy time and time again. If a friend invited me over to enjoy a small plate of this little nibble, I’d gladly bust out the good wine. But, then again, my opinion is biased–because I think anything with a goat cheese mousse is pure heaven. Needless to say, this was an exceptional way to begin our meal.
Our first course of the evening was a spring pea and mint soup. I think often the thought of pea soup evokes memories of an ultra thick, relatively creamy, army green, semi-smoky, ham-laden soup. This soup was anything but. To begin, the color was the epitome of spring pea green. The soup was luscious and silky–but it wasn’t particularly thick. I really liked the texture. Chef Andrew and his team always surprise me with the soup course and this was no exception. Though this may have been one of the most simple soups I’ve tasted at a Junk Ditch tasting dinner, it may have also been my favorite. The mint flavor was delicate and didn’t overpower the sweet, earthiness of the peas. Between the ultra well-balanced, subtle, simple flavors and the absolute velveteen texture of this soup, there was nothing not to love about it. Our meal had only just begun and already I was certain that the evening was headed in the direction of utter perfection–and sheeeesh, was I right.
The salad course consisted of petite greens, strawberry, shallots, dill, chives, pickled mustard, and chèvre all dressed in a Pinot Noir reduction. I will be honest with you: I am not a big fan of strawberries. But, if you’ve been around for a while and read other blogs I’ve written, you’ve probably gathered that I will try anything at a tasting dinner–even a food that I think I don’t like–because most of the time I end up enjoying whatever is presented to me on the plate. Chefs know what they’re doing; for real. This salad was no exception. One bite and I found myself happily and eagerly gobbling down strawberries. Did it help that there was a healthy amount of chèvre (aka goat cheese) on this plate? Of course it did. If you fed me wallpaper paste with goat cheese, I’d probably eat it. However, this salad was lightyears ahead of wallpaper paste. The herbs and greens played nicely to create a backdrop for pops of sweet strawberries, creamy chèvre, and brightly acidic mustard. The Pinot Noir reduction was silky and seductive, tying the whole dish together beautifully. If every salad in the world tasted like this one, I’d never need to eat anything but salad to feel happy and satisfied. Well, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, because there is one thing that my soul will long for eternally: pasta.
I am a pasta fiend and I won’t be apologizing for it. Luckily for me, Chef Andrew is truly in his pasta era. (Can we start trending #pastaera for Chef, please?) The third course was our pasta course featuring potato agnolotti, sage cream, snap peas, and crispy prosciutto. When I tell you that this is one of my most favorite pasta dishes that I’ve ever eaten–you better pick up what I’m putting down. I’ve always been a pea girl. I wish they were more often utilized in more places–so this tasting menu was really a dream for me. Even more so when you realize this menu wasn’t just abouts ‘peas’ because really it was about ‘P’s.’ This pasta was packed with a potato filling creating a purely paradisiacal plate topped with peas and crispy prosciutto: what more could a girl ask for? (See what I did again?) Oh yeah…a sage cream sauce, which has nothing to do with peas or P’s, but it does please me immensely. There were crunchy sage leaves atop this dish, too. Did we ask for spoons so that we could scrape every last pea and drop of cream sauce from the bottoms of our bowls? Perhaps. Was it worth it? Palpably.
Our entrée was pork served in a sea of gnocchetti, asparagus, peas, rosemary, and absolutely divine pork jus. The pork was delicious, but it was truly everything else on the plate that elevated this simple meat to a seriously stunning dish. The gnocchetti serves as further proof that Chef Andrew is in his pasta era. Did we ask for bread to sop up the pool of pork jus left behind on our plates when every last bite of meat, pasta, and veg had long since vanished? Yes, we most certainly did. No regrets. Are you picking up on a theme here? There were two dishes in a row my dining companions and I basically agreed that the flavors were too special to allow even a single drop to be wasted; we wanted to savor every last morsel. But if you think these last few plates were special, just wait until I tell you about dessert.
For dessert, a poached peach was nestled under a blanket of yuzu cream with a small scoop of Verjus sorbet and a delicate sprinkling of palm sugar crumble. Consider my mind utterly and completely blown. The peach provided some level of sweetness. The yuzu cream was almost incomprehensibly delicious; both lusciously creamy and perfectly tart. Then, of course, there was the Verjus sorbet–which I can only liken to the experience of eating a seriously sour lemon Italian ice when you were a little kid. Take that specific sense memory. Age it. Elevate it. Keep all the sweet and sour of it, but none of the childhood simplicity. That’s what Verjus sorbet tastes like. All together, these elements were exquisite–but then there was the crumble. My god, the crumble! A salty burst–but it was so much more than that. Buttery and nutty, this complexly flavored crumble added more than just texture to the dessert’s already dynamic topography. It added subtle nuanced flavors that enhanced the entire experience to a point for which I no longer have words. This dessert was too good to describe. I think it’s very likely that last night was the first and only time in my life that I will have the pleasure of experiencing this exact dessert–which means I will spend the rest of my life missing it. Truly the most beautiful and heartbreaking love story of our time. Desserts shouldn’t be allowed to be this good.
This was the first tasting dinner that I opted out of alcohol. Pairing wine and food is maybe one of my favorite pastimes. A good pairing means that both the wine and the food are elevated. But, I do it so often that I’ve almost forgotten that a really good meal doesn’t require alcohol to make it better–the dishes should shine on their own. So, I joined my N/A homies last night and went wine-free to see how delicious peas can really be in the death defying feat of being featured on a dinner plate; like walking a tightrope without a net. Is anyone surprised that peas were more than prepared to rise to the occasion?
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Draft TaproomxDom’s Mob Wife Dinner: it’s a hit…
A little black dress can be many things. Sometimes it’s a weapon–wielded like a machine gun. Whether it’s to boost the confidence of the one wearing it or as artillery when taking out a hit on someone who broke your heart: the little black dress delivers. It can cut like a knife. It can sting like a bee. It can bring a grown man to his knees. Sometimes, a little black dress is the chosen camouflage of the food influencer in the wild–maybe I’m not speaking for others on this, but it’s true for me. Normally, we get the benefit of hiding behind witty usernames and carefully curated photos of food. Take away our security blanket (AKA the internet) and watch me grab for the closest little black dress–because, however short or skimpy it may be, I know it will always be something safe for me to hide behind. Sometimes a little black dress is the adopted uniform for a Mob Wife inspired dinner–where influencers are invited to Draft Taphouse to enjoy a pairing dinner with food from Dom’s and sample local beverages. There were tables set up from Hop River Brewing, Lunar Fusions Kombucha, and Daylily Estates with free sample pours for all in attendance. Whyte Horse Winery, Hop River Brewing, and Kekionga Craft Company provided sips for the pairing dinner.
I rocked in wearing my satin black dress and fake fur stole–my date all in pinstripes, a fedora, and alligator boots. Being social may be hard, but being fabulous just comes naturally to us. The event began casually at six o’clock, allowing attendees about 45 minutes to mingle, socialize, and sample locally crafted beverages. Hop River and Lunar Fusions are local favorites which my friends were delighted to sample and support–but you know me. My heart was stolen by Daylily Estates long ago and so I hung around their table of Brianna Pét-Nat like a lion circling a gazelle. (And bought a full pour of their Catawba Pét-Nat to enjoy–because Draft still had some on offer and I can do whatever I want to because I am the captain of this meat-suit!)
We began to find our seats to enjoy dinner around seven o’clock. The dining room was romantically lit–a mafia movie on the television to further set the mood–and there I was in the ‘cop spot’ with a fantastic view of the whole room. Everything was served up family style–so if you didn’t know everyone at your table when you first sat down, you quickly became friends. Food has a way of bringing people together. We started the evening with antipasto; a large grazing platter of olives, cherries, yummy house-made sausage, and various breads with an artichoke butter. Truly, the standouts on the platter were the sausage bites, the focaccia, and the cheeses. There was Manchego, an Aged White Cheddar from Maine, and a Whole Milk Mozzarella from Illinois that was marinated in house. The mozz was definitely my favorite. We also got to munch on a Tangy Kale Caesar Salad with some super bomb dressing, parm, lemon, and sourdough croutons. All this paired with an off-dry Riesling from Whyte Horse. Since Riesling is always a good idea, this pairing was a good idea.
Our next course was pizza–which is so apropos for Dom’s. Pizza is why you already know and love Dom’s. This was paired with a beer, but I won’t lie to you: I didn’t try it. I let my date have it because he really likes it. Hop River has great beers, we already know this. Instead of drinking beer, I was an absolute menace and kept sneaking samples of Daylily’s Brianna Pét-Nat. I won’t apologize. I love it. It’s delicious. Pizza and Pét-Nat is a match made in heaven. I think what I did was very smart; so la-di-da. We got slices of a basic red sauce cheese New York style pizza, a Greek veggie New York style pizza, and a Detroit style pizza with roasted grapes, Gorgonzola, smokey bacon and rosemary, and creamy white sauce. All of the pizza tasted yummy. However, the Gorgonzola and Grape pizza is a regular on Dom’s menu. And if you know me you know that this is probably my favorite pizza that they make–with the exception of that one time that they made a special, limited offering of pickle pizza. Y’all–I’m glad that I live in a world where I can get a Gorgonzola and Grape pizza whenever I want it. Because after having it tonight, I know I’ll want it again really soon. It’s utterly craveable.
The third course is really the reason we’d all gathered for the evening. Influencers/mobsters united to eat baked pasta dishes. Dom’s previously didn’t offer pasta–but they do now. We tried two variations and, fam, it’s a whole mood. The baked Mostaccioli had a brisket bolognese and basil ricotta. This red sauced pasta was ultra creamy and cheesy: like when somebody’s Nonna makes pasta for a church lunch–but better. My favorite was the Garlic Chicken and Truffle Alfredo. It was rich without being overly decadent, cheesy without sitting like a brick in your tummy, and full of truffle flavor without tasting overtly of synthetic truffle oil. (Because cheap truffle oil ironically contains no real truffles.) The pastas were paired with Barg & Butch Red Blend by Kekionga Craft Company. It is wine. It is a dry red blend.
Dessert was a Pistachio Affogato served with a plate of cookies. I had finished all of the Brianna Pét-Nat that I could stomach by this point. Did I basically go to a fancy-pants, Mob Wife themed pairing dinner and just quaff Daylily’s Brianna Pét-Nat? Perhaps. I also ate pasta, so there’s that. Being a person is hard sometimes–being an influencer is maybe harder. Especially when that’s not how you see yourself. I think it’s especially true of many of the talented creators in Fort Wayne: influencer is not a title that we ever sought to achieve, it was instead a title thrust upon us. Some of us are more comfortable with the term ‘content creator.’ I just wanted people to read my writing and recognized that social media was a helpful tool to direct people to my blog. I just wanted to write. Now I’m getting invited to influencer dinners. The idea of me having any influence over others is anxiety-inducing: especially when you consider how fake everything is online. I’m not an exception to this rule. I’m faker than plastic cheese on the ‘gram. But the version of me that exists on the internet is a persona that helps me connect with my community and have experiences that I wouldn’t get to have otherwise. That’s why I do it, and I suspect it might be why most other content creators do it, too. We are passionate about elevating local businesses and supporting the local community. All the internet stuff that all of us internet people do, at the best of times, allows us opportunities to meet people and learn new things and go out into the world to have a good time together every once in a while. This dinner was a good reminder of that: we’re not in it alone, and that’s the point. We have each other and that’s exactly why we all started doing this in the first place. We’re here to eat–and, last night, we ate.
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Daylily Estates: they’re here to do it better…
Sometimes we live our lives accepting the status quo because we don’t know any better. Then a disruptor comes along and paints our world in the technicolor of possibility–and suddenly nothing will ever be the same. Calling Daylily Estates a ‘disruptor’ feels a little funny, because there’s nothing particularly rebellious about what they’re doing. I wouldn’t call the gentlemen behind Daylily Estates the “bad boys of Indiana wine” and I know for a fact they’re not traipsing through the vineyards in leather jackets with switchblades. At first blush, they may not seem like radicals–that is, until you look at them through the narrow scope that is wine production in Indiana–perhaps, even more specifically, wine production in Northeastern Indiana–and then it becomes abundantly clear that Daylily Estates is not just here to do more of what’s already been done: they’re here to do it better.
I said, “better” and I meant what I said. There will be no apologies issued from me for these words. I know that it’s a fucking bold claim. And before you get your panties in a bunch thinking that some cishet white men are traipsing around Churubusco pretending that they’ve somehow reinvented wine, let me stress that the claim doesn’t belong to the brilliant minds behind Daylily Estates. These are my words. I chose them. I wrote them. All you have to do is comprehend it–pick up what I’m laying down, babe. I believe wholeheartedly, unwaveringly, and passionately in what these dudes are doing. I am brazen enough to say that they are going to break the stasis of wine culture in Northeastern Indiana. The dudes behind Daylily Estates probably wouldn’t be so bold as to make such big claims about themselves and their abilities. They’re insanely talented, but also seriously humble. I left the vineyard wondering if they really know how skilled and singular they are. If not, hopefully by the end of this blog they’ll have an inkling. The benefit of the lack of ego at Daylily is that they’ve managed to craft an environment at their winery where novices and wine-pros alike can feel comfortable–this is no small feat. The wine industry is so often more about dick swinging than it is about enjoying wine: but they are having none of the bullshit at Daylily Estates. There are no right or wrong answers when you sip their wines–so it’s safe to speak your mind, feel your feelings, and enjoy the wine.
Daylily founder and winemaker, Cody Kraus, co-founder Chris Leonard, and co-founder/sommelier Troy Veglatte are becoming pioneers of a growing movement to craft better quality wines in our region. If you don’t know their names already, learn them now. There is no doubt in my mind that within my lifetime these dudes’ names will be synonymous with discussions of an American Viticultural Area (for the noobs not familiar with this term, it’s just a fancy way of saying a protected and recognized wine growing region) that doesn’t even officially exist yet. Sure, there’s the Indiana Uplands in the lower portion of our state and the massively sprawling Ohio River Valley–but winemaker Cody Kraus dares to dream of the day when a new AVA is designated, encompassing our little slice of paradise. As long as dope people keep doing dope shit in Northeastern Indiana: this dream could very well become a reality. I don’t just see this as being feasible; I see this as being likely if more dope people want to do dope things here.
But what’s so special about Daylily Estates? Don’t we already have a number of vineyards and producers in the area? Sure we do–and everybody’s probably already got their favorite. I’d like to take this time to remind you that it’s okay to change your mind. Up until today, I did not have a favorite local winery because none scratched all of my itches. Sure, I’d grab a bottle or two here and there. I’d give support and kudos to whomever I felt deserved it whenever I felt it was deserved. (I’ll continue to do that.) But, ultimately, nobody made me turn my head and say, “I see you, sexy, and I like what you’re doing over there.” One trip to Daylily Estates and I’m already confident that they tick all the boxes–so that’s true love. We can talk about what they’re doing that’s so special, but what they’re not doing is almost more exciting. While they’re definitely working to offer a variety of wines, so that there’s something for everyone no matter what you like, they are not offering cloyingly sweet niche bottles with artificial flavors–and there’s absolutely no boozy slushies at this vineyard. Don’t get me wrong: sommelier Troy Veglatte loves a sweet wine and can wax poetic about the beauty of finding the time and place to enjoy a sweeter sip. You can even anticipate a canned wine drop in the near future–low ABV, considerably sweeter than I am, and crushable juicy goodness. The point is, they bring more to the table than just sweetness. There’s real substance behind what they’re producing. I’m swooning.
You know what else they’re not doing? Treating their crops with glyphosate. Do you know that word–glyphosate? What if I said, “glyphosate-based herbicides?” What if I just came out and said, “Roundup?” Locally, there are vineyards that treat their grapes this way. Personally, I’d rather support a vineyard that stands against these practices. Daylily Estates isn’t simply anti-glyphosate, they’re completely and emphatically committed to regenerative agriculture. What does that mean? It’s an approach to farming that primarily focuses on conservation and rehabilitation. The benefits of this approach are numerous and varied, including but not limited to top soil regeneration, increasing soil biodiversity, supporting pollinators, and ultimately reversing climate change. So no big deal or anything, they’re just saving the world one vineyard at a time. Walk through the baby vines currently growing at Daylily Estates and you’ll quickly see that clover is the cover-crop of choice. Planting clover amongst the vines aids in the prevention of soil erosion, it enhances nitrogen levels in the soil, and even supports pollinators. With this approach to farming, it just makes sense that all of Daylily Estates facilities are completely off-grid and solar-powered.
So, here’s the time for some honest truth: I am currently drinking their Brianna Pét-Nat while writing this. I often like to drink a little wine when I write. When I write about something that I have very few nice things to say about, I will drink more wine to compensate. It makes me nicer–and funnier. I am a glass and a half in on their Brianna Pét-Nat and it’s not because I don’t have a million nice things to say–it’s because they make really fucking good wine. Brianna is a pretty common grape in the Midwest, though it was only bred in the early 1980s. I know that there are local vineyards that have won awards for their Brianna wines, but none have really knocked my socks off the way that Daylily Estates’ Brianna Pét-Nat has. This wine gives lively bubbles when first opened. With early pours, I was getting serious tropical fruits, like pineapple, and gentle floral notes–though not intensely aromatic. My bottle has been open for a hot minute; the wine has lost some bubbles, but I’m now noticing more peach and honey than I was before. These are subtle changes. If you’re not paying close attention to your wine and thinking hard about it, you’ll likely not notice this sort of thing. But for those of us who like to get down and nerdy with our wines, there’s a lot to unpack in this Brianna Pét-Nat. You may be surprised to know that I like it just as much, if not more, than their Catawba Pét-Nat.
If you’ve been following for awhile, you already know that I fucking love Catawba. This grape holds no clout on the world stage. They could not give a fuck about Catawba in Europe. Like Brianna, this is an inherently American varietal known for its mix of fruitiness and occasional foxiness. Poets have penned odes to Catawba wine. I could see myself penning an ode to Daylily Estates’ Catawba Pét-Nat. I’ve had a lot of Catawba wines–maybe too many by some standards–but never before have I had a Catawba Pét-Nat. The Catawba is not quite as effervescent as the Brianna Pét-Nat, but it makes up for it in its gorgeous pink hue. If you like Superbloom by Las Jaras, you will like this Catawba Pét-Nat. All the Watermelon Jolly Rancher, with none of the jalapeño herbaceousness or super salinity, this Pét-Nat is a smooth sip that would pair gorgeously with some spicy food.I currently have two Daylily Estates bottles in my wine collection. I’m about to spend the next few months drinking a myriad of wines from around the world as part of my WSET 2 studies. I look forward to adding more Daylily Estates bottles to my collection in the near future. If that doesn’t say something about the quality of the product they’re crafting, I don’t really know what more I can say. These are the wines I have wanted to see produced in Indiana since I first moved here. I don’t know if I’m actually allowed to talk about this, but I sipped a Traminette produced by Daylily Estates. It will age for a few more months before bottling, but I imagine it will be released to the public soon. Y’all, I don’t know what you already know, but Traminette is the state grape of Indiana. I had yet to find a Traminette that fired me up until Daylily Estates showed up and said, “Bet.” It’s our fucking state grape, people. We should be producing wine that actually does it justice. We have so much to offer. We simply have to put in the effort to create something worthwhile. Daylily Estates gets it. They have my unyielding support, because what they’re crafting is exceptional, and the methods they’re employing are valuable and visionary. They do Indiana justice.
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Bistro Nota & Scarpetta Wine Dinner: either you already know that there are remarkable things happening in the culinary scene in Fort Wayne or you’re wrong…
Three chefs. Five courses. Five wine pairings. One unforgettable evening. If you haven’t attended a wine dinner at Bistro Nota yet, then I guess I’m sorry that your life is so sad and empty. The food is always faultless, the atmosphere cozy, and the pours generous. Honestly, I live for wine dinners at Bistro Nota–because it’s always the best way to spend an evening. This most recent dinner featured Scarpetta wines. These are Italian wines crafted by Americans. Master Sommelier Bobby Stuckey and former French Laundry Chef Lachlan Patterson teamed up to create Scarpetta in 2007: named for the little bit of bread that you use to sop up the last remaining sauce on your plate at the end of a meal. The wines they’ve produced are accessible–as appropriate for a celebration as they are for everyday drinking. Enjoyable on their own: but best enjoyed with good food, good friends, and good conversation. Bistro Nota is an ideal environment for enjoying wines like this. The cozy, warm, welcoming vibe that they cultivate–in addition to their meticulously, thoughtfully crafted cuisine–are the exact companions that wines like this need in order to be enjoyed as intended. All that’s missing from the equation is you and your nearest and dearest. So, bestie and I attended the wine dinner. We’ll spill the tea this time but really, next time, you better not miss it. I won’t repeat myself.
The first plate of the evening was Spring Asparagus with crispy capocollo, celery root crumb, and lemon. This plate was vibrant and such a strong starting point for the meal. Earthy and verdant, but balanced beautifully with the crispy, salty capocollo and bright, acidic lemon.Though exceptionally exciting on its own–with its varied textures and bold flavors–paired with Scarpetta’s Prosecco, the dish truly sang. If you’re a Prosecco snob, skip this paragraph–or, maybe then again, don’t. This is DOC Prosecco that you can purchase for under $14. It’s like a square vs. rectangle thing. Expensive wine is good, but not all good wine has to be expensive. I mean this in the nicest way possible, this Prosecco is a little rockstar for being a cheap bottle of Prosecco. Uber floral on the nose and palette, with notes of melon and green apple–this dry bubbly is a good buy for all of your sparkling wine needs this summer. Whether porch sipping, pairing with pizza, or just popping a cork so your snacks won’t be lonely; consider Scarpetta’s Prosecco a solid option that won’t break the bank. This is an inoffensive Prosecco for Americans who like bubbly and aren’t snobbish about it.
The second plate of the evening was a Local Mushroom Tart: with buttery leeks, caramelized onions, melty gruyere, and creamy mornay. To balance this decadence, a small baby arugula salad. This tart was velvety. The flavors luxe; bordering on hedonistic. Would I call this tart sexy? Yes I would. The crust was more akin to buttery, soft bread than flaky pastry–but this was a necessary structural element to contain the absolute bacchanal of alliums, earthy mushrooms, and immorally cheesy goodness. Plus, the crust just tasted so damn good. Don’t change a thing. I’m in love and want seconds, please. While the arugula salad was heaven sent to lighten the decadence of the tart, the bunch of well-dressed peppery greens couldn’t hide how sinfully delicious the mushroom tart truly was. This plate paired with the Delle Venezie Pinot Grigio. Delightful notes of stone fruit, like peach and melon made this fuller bodied Pinot Grigio a really lovely sip. The high acid of this wine helped to cut through the intense, creamy, fattiness of the tart: because all good relationships are, after all, about balance.
Though difficult to choose a favorite plate of the evening, if I was held at gunpoint and panicking for an answer, I would probably say the Pan Roasted Salmon was my personal favorite. I keep going out to eat and falling in love with fish dishes. I don’t think it’s a ‘me’ problem, I think that fish is having a moment and chefs are giving it the princess treatment: ultimately exalting it and elevating it to its rightful place as the star of the show. This gorgeous pink salmon was served on a bed of spring pea-mascarpone risotto with prosciutto, Chef Butts’ famous morel mushrooms, and romesco sauce. I could eat this dish weekly and not get tired of it–especially when paired with Scarpetta’s Barbera del Monferatto. We love to see fish paired with red wine. Throw away the antiquated knowledge that your mommy may have passed down to you: seafood and red wine works when paired thoughtfully. This Barbera is intriguing, balancing earthy notes–like mushrooms–with red fruits and dark fruits. Notes of luscious, ripe berries and plums make this a juicy sip, while the earthy elements of terroir keep this wine interesting AF. The wine pairs beautifully with this vibrant, slightly spicy salmon because of its low tannin and high acid. This is another bottle I’d fully endorse picking up for your personal collection. It’s incredibly food friendly and, following a trend with Scarpetta wines, it won’t break the bank. If I get to have this salmon and wine combo just once more this summer, I’ll be a very happy girl.
The final savory course of the evening was Beef Teres Majors: a familiar dish from Bistro Nota’s menu. However, the accoutrement that shared the plate with the beef fully transformed it from the menu item we all know and love into something even more special. An intensely crusted potato-eggplant rösti served as companion, as well as haricot verts, sauce bordelaise, and toasted garlic. To pair, the Colli Orientali del Friuli Cabernet Franc. Imagine tasting the Barbera from the last pairing and then saying, “Bet.” This Cab Franc is incredibly complex for a bottle that rocks in around the $20 mark. Notes of red fruit, like raspberry, are balanced with green bell pepper, and characteristics of oak like leather and clove. This wine is fruity, herbaceous, and subtly peppery. This is something I’d happily sip on its own: but it works nicely with food, too.So, I know that I said the salmon was my favorite plate of the evening. But, what if I lied? Chef Cam crafted a Due Crema Cheesecake with burnt honey caramel and pine nut brittle. This thing rocked my fucking world. I’m a nice girl, but I’m also a bitch. I can be both at the same time: I checked the rule book and it’s allowed. I have strong opinions on cheesecake and one of those opinions is that most of the shit people serve up and refer to as “cheesecake” is actually just some garbage monstrosity of cheap cream cheese and too much sugar. People who make bad cheesecake should be ashamed of themselves. Also, they should stop. I don’t trust many people who say they’re going to serve me cheesecake. If someone says they’re going to give me a slice, my brain immediately wants me to ask, “Are you sure?” If it wasn’t purchased on Flatbush in Brooklyn, how do I know it’s good? Enter Chef Cam with the most divinely creamy, silky, stunning cheesecake I’ve ever enjoyed. Fuck Flatbush. Fort Wayne is now officially where you can find the ultimate cheesecake indulgence. What Chef Cam has crafted puts all other cheesecakes to shame: a cheesecake so creamy it’s almost otherworldly. Did Chef Cam really make this or was it crafted by the gods? I’m not necessarily buying that any mere mortal could create something so divine. To top, a burnt honey caramel. Now, honey is sweet by nature. Burnt things tend to go bitter. So, imagine that you’ve applied heat and caramelized some of the honey’s natural sugar to the point of burning: the end result is a complex, warm, sweet-bitter, ooey-gooey, sticky caramel. And then the man goes and adds pine nut brittle! Earthy, buttery, mildly sweet, perfectly crunchy: the pine nut brittle took an exceptional dessert and made it matchless. Can somebody please give Chef Cam an award or–at very least–a high five and a nice glass of wine? To pair with this masterpiece, the Spumante Brut Rose Timido: a gorgeous pink pour with notes of fresh flowers and strawberries. This is the bottle that you give to someone who you have a crush on. It tastes like young love and summer nights: nostalgic but new, all at once. I can’t imagine a more dreamy way to end an evening.
Alright, so, this is the point where I’m supposed to do the “talented writer” thing and tie the whole piece together with a neat bow. I ramble off some witty or poignant bullshit and try to convince whoever is reading that their life is damn near meaningless because they missed out on this wine dinner. If I’m doing my job right, the reader is left with a desire to book seats at the next wine dinner–to fill the empty space in their life and avoid impending FOMO. But, let’s just skip the song and dance this once–because, honestly, I’m a little tired of it. The wine dinners that Bistro Nota has been hosting are remarkable. If you are someone who values expertly prepared cuisine carefully and considerately paired with spesh wine, then you should have already attended one of these dinners. I shouldn’t have to rave on about it. Either you already know that there are remarkable things happening in the culinary scene in Fort Wayne or you’re wrong. Either you’re already eagerly waiting for Bistro Nota to announce their next wine dinner or you’re not the kind of person I’d want to spend an evening with, engaged in delightful conversation, over expertly prepared plates of food, and several glasses of wine. That’s fine if you’re not that kind of person. But, if you are that kind of person, and you want to fill your world with more like-minded people, you’ll always know where to find me. Bistro Nota has crafted a space for people like me. All I’ve ever needed is good company, good food, and good wine. What more could you possibly need?
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Rune: perfection in the 07…
Rune is the newest darling of the 07. Headed by local James Beard nominated Chef Sean Richardson: maybe you’ve attended, or at least heard of, the Rune pop-ups that he’s delighted Fort Wayne diners with over the last few years. Well, this is the brand new brick and mortar home for his sensational cuisine. With a focus on locally sourced ingredients, Chef Sean sees value in supporting local farms and crafting an ever-changing menu around whatever ingredients are seasonally available to us in the Hoosier state. (Because our local produce is just as good–if not better–than what’s available to larger cities with more renowned culinary scenes. Hyper local in NYC means something very different than it does in Fort Wayne, Indiana.) Rune even has a licensed forager on staff, literally scouring the fields and forests of Indiana to bring flavors to Rune that you won’t find on most menus. (How often are you dining on shagbark syrup and white pine, people?)
I was there for the opening night of Rune with one of my favorite dining companions: Fort Wayne famous egg-enthusiast and barista extraordinaire, who has literally never once missed a Rune dinner and has the stash of menus to prove it, the incomparable Volchy. He’s the best tour guide for new dining experiences in Fort Wayne; he knows everyone which means that he knows everything. Aside from being a wealth of knowledge, his palate is très bon. When we dine together, it’s always a happy time–and a yappy time. So, my dining companion and I arrived at Rune for our 5:30 reservation; the weather perfect, the sunshine radiant, and our bellies empty and eager. We were seated at the tiniest, cutest little two-top on this side of town and began our adventure as most good adventures shared by good friends begin–with wine.
The wine list is nothing short of impressive. There are lots of exciting things to sip at Rune. Presently, they have multiple bottles on the menu from producer Las Jaras. Out of California, if you watched Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! then you’re already familiar with one of the brains behind Las Jaras–Eric Wareheim. Though maybe best known amongst my generation for his comedy chops, there’s nothing funny about Las Jaras wines. Volchy and I sprung for a bottle of Superbloom. I’ve enjoyed this wine before and will always jump at the opportunity to revisit it. With a rainbow burst label reminiscent of Jenny Lewis in her Voyager era, this bottle is a stunner. Corked and sealed with pretty aqua blue wax, the small amount of sediment that remains in this natural wine creates galaxy swirls when poured. This sip is neon strawberry hued and tastes like red Jolly Ranchers and jalapeños with intense salinity. This will always be a favorite summer sip for me. Since today was the sunniest, warmest day we’ve had in quite awhile–the wine was a fitting choice to celebrate the pleasant weather.
When ordering, Rune requests that you order all food at once–they will take care of timing your meal out perfectly. Trust the process. They know what they’re doing. So, naturally, we ordered all of our plates at once. (When in Rune.) The first plates brought to us were the two appetizer-sized bites that we requested: the Rustic Chicken Liver Pâté and the Soft Boiled Eggs. When I attended the media cocktail hour for Rune, pre-official opening, the Chicken Liver Pâté was served. Volchy had even tried this nibble before at other previous Rune events. Though I’d just eaten it recently, I wanted to have it again. Honestly, I’d been craving it. I am a pâté girl. I love a good pâté and that’s precisely what they’re serving up at Rune. Think the most soft, luscious, flavorful chicken liver pâté you’ve ever enjoyed served with an array of pickles–from radishes to cornichon–a side of fresh sesame crackers for spreading, and a bed of house-made rosé mustard for extra awesomeness. This mustard is fire, y’all. Crafted with Big Salt Rosé, from producer Ovum out of the Willamette Valley, this is not the honey-mus you dip your chicken nuggies in–but in your wildest dreams you trade out your silly honey-mus for this rosé mustard and you live your best life. Of course, since I was dining with Volchy, there was simply no way we’d be skipping the Soft Boiled Eggs with mayo and fried kale because, well, eggs. The soft boil left the yolks jammy. The mayo coating this entire dish was luscious, rich, intensely creamy, and bordering on buttery. The fried kale was enough to make me feel like it was okay that I was taking forkfuls of eggs and mayo to the face–because there was a bit of leafy green to balance the bacchanal bites. I am not as much of an egg-enthusiast as Volchy is, but I did enjoy this nibble. It was odd because we both agreed that it left us feeling immediately very full–but with how Rune expertly paced our meal, we were ready to eat again by the time that the next plate arrived at our table.
I insisted on ordering a pasta dish. Presently, there are two on the menu. Rune has a pasta extruder in the kitchen and is cranking out their own fresh noodles. This is exactly what I’ve wanted to see in the 07 neighborhood. I imagine I will be back often for wine and fresh pasta: especially if the pasta plate that I ate tonight is any indicator of the caliber of pasta dishes that we can expect Rune to crank out. The spaghetti and roasted peanut pesto is quite possibly one of the most impressive pasta dishes I’ve ever enjoyed–and it just happens to be vegan! The spaghetti noodles that they’re crafting are maybe just a smidge thicker than what you buy at the grocery store: but I am here for the added girth. The texture is, frankly, dreamy. I kind of hate to toss the word “perfect” around, but if the perfection fits, wear it. Al dente and optimally chewy, the noodles are tossed in a roasted peanut pesto. I won’t begin to pretend that I understand exactly what is in that sauce. It is lightly herby with a warm, round, earthy undertone provided by the roasted peanuts. I am fully obsessed with this dish. When it, eventually, leaves Rune’s menu–as all dishes at seasonally focused restaurants must–I will possibly cry. Rune is a restaurant where everything is good. No matter what you order, the food will be good. This pasta dish, however, is exceptional.
On to the Pork Chop with Sauce Robert and Polenta. This was Volchy’s pick. Are you surprised? If you’ve read even one or two of my other blogs, you probably already know–I am a red meat girl. I like steak. That’s not to say that I don’t like pork. It’s only to say that it probably wouldn’t be the thing that I’d choose when presented with multiple options. But this is why I so value dining with friends and sharing food. Friends will force you to break patterns. Friends will hold your hand as you venture outside of your comfort zone. Friends will order a dope pork chop and then let you enjoy it with them. If I say the pork was cooked expertly, who would be shocked? No one. This is Rune. We basically expect perfection when we know that the project is headed by James Beard nominated Chef Sean Richardson and his sous, the brilliantly talented–if you don’t know his name already, learn it–Kody Aswegan. So, naturally, the pork chop was superb. Topped with sauce Robert; for the uninformed, this is a French sauce composed of onions, mustard, and white wine simmered in demi-glace. As we know, there are five French mother sauces–and this ain’t one of them–but it is closely related to Espagnole sauce. The Americans should throw out their steak sauce, the Brits should throw out their HP sauce, and we should all spend more time dousing our food in sauce Robert–because it’s delicious. However, in this male-dominated world, I do find myself wondering who I have to blow to get a sauce named after me. I’m not above it. We all have to leave our legacy somehow.
We ended our meal on a sweet note. Right now, there are two dessert options–plus an array of after-dinner drinks, but I’m not going to delve into that at this time. For the media cocktail hour, I was able to sample the Carrot and Sweet Potato Tea Cake with Butterscotch and I loved it. Chef Sean has a reputation for producing good cakes and this is no exception. I want to eat this again. Hopefully soon. But, since I’d already had it, Volchy and I decided to sample the other dessert offering: a White Pine Pot de Crème with Shagbark Maple Syrup and Peanut Brittle. The tea cake is a safe offering. The Pot De Crème, full of foraged flavors, may seem like it’s only for the more adventurous eaters but–I’m telling you now–it’s an adventure worth taking. This dessert is ultra creamy and sweet without being cloying. The white pine notes are subtle: I promise, it doesn’t taste like you’re eating a Christmas tree, if that’s something you’re worried about. All of the flavors swirl and dance together in a dizzying waltz–turning this dish into a symphony of harmonious notes, rather than a fugue of fighting flavors. Everything plays together really nicely–whether the comfortable but complex shagbark maple, the earthy and crunchy peanut brittle, or the strong though unfamiliar herbal pine.
The 07 isn’t a huge neighborhood, and it starts seeming even smaller when we talk about fine dining experiences. Bravas and Chance Bar basically have the market cornered, though Friendly Fox occasionally hosts wine dinners, and there is also our friendly Italian corner market, Antonuccio’s (I know they’re not on a corner, I said it for the wordplay, don’t DM me.) It’s also my neighborhood, so maybe I’m biased. If Rune wasn’t walking distance from my house, maybe I wouldn’t be as stoked as I am about their addition to our landscape. If the team wasn’t as innovative and brilliant as they all are, maybe I wouldn’t be singing their praises to you quite so emphatically in 12-point font. If the menu wasn’t locally-focused and delicious as it is, maybe I wouldn’t already be planning my next trip. But guess what: it is, they are, and I am.
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Junk Ditch French Pairing Dinner: oh là là!
I love French food. It’s special, bordering on magical. There’s something astonishing about simple ingredients transfigured to become greater than the sum of their parts through skillful technique. An ordinary chicken becomes extraordinary, elegant even, when prepared with French style. When it comes to la cuisine française, an emphasis is always placed on quality ingredients, fresh produce, and an abundance of herbs. Then, of course, there’s my personal holy trinity: bread, butter, and wine. I really do love it–maybe more than any other type of food. But, it’s not just me: culturally, we indisputably hold reverence for French cuisine. So often, when a new restaurant opens, you’ll hear the food described as a particular region’s cuisine but prepared with French technique–as if that somehow improves upon what a culture of people has already perfected over their history. Some may argue that this imperialistic approach to cuisine is because of racism. Some may argue that it’s because French techniques are so widely popularized in cooking schools that other cultures’ approaches to food are seldom, if ever, taught. While I’d love to delve into the dubious ethics of it all–now is not the place nor the time. Because, ultimately, even if our obsession with French technique is perhaps morally dubious, there’s no avoiding the obvious: the resulting food is fucking delicious. Do you know when I enjoy French technique the absolute most? When it’s applied to traditional French cuisine. Talk about right place right time.
While one of my biggest complaints upon moving to Fort Wayne was the lack of representation for traditional French bistro cuisine in the food scene, I’ve been presently surprised to see this gradually shift since my arrival. Most recently, I was completely spoiled by Junk Ditch Brewing, who opted to craft a French inspired menu as part of their Monday night tasting dinner series. These dinners absolutely never disappoint: so my hopes were sky high when I arrived for dinner with a small group of mes amis. As I write this, the moon is high in the cloudy sky, there’s still a black beret perched upon my head, and I’m spooning mouthfuls of warm leftover Pommes Aligot from a plastic pint. (Thank you, Chef Andrew, for the princess treatment–not just for me, but for the whole table. Aligot to go!) I’m painfully aware that sometimes things are sweeter in memory. However, I do believe that the reality of my meal this evening has not yet been colored with the passing of time–lightly warmed in the microwave, the Pommes Aligot remain divine still. Was this the best meal I’ve ever had at Junk Ditch? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Our meal began with an amuse-bouche of mushroom gougères. For those unfamiliar, think of a savory cream puff. Instead of a fluffy, sweetened cream filling, the Pâte à Choux puff encapsulates a mushroom duxelles of sorts–still relatively creamy in texture, but supremely earthy instead of sweet. They were served up gorgeously piled on a long plank. There were enough that everyone at the table was able to enjoy two puffs: which is, frankly, more than generous for an amuse-bouche. This is a bite I will crave in the days to come–weeks, months, perhaps even for the rest of my life. When a meal starts on such a strong note, there’s a lot of pressure for the following dishes to not simply be equally stunning, but to surpass that first bite in deliciousness. Nobody can accuse the team at Junk Ditch of not knowing how to expertly craft a menu.
Our first course was Lentil Soup with herb oil and thyme. Based only on the menu description, I think we all expected a chunky, lentil filled soup. What we received was a velvety, puréed soup drizzled with bright green herb oil and flecks of thyme. To pair, the Chateau Fage Blanc Bordeaux. This pairing was exceptional–and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been so blown away by a wine and soup pairing. The bright citrus, pear, green apple, and honey notes of this wine balanced the herbaceous and earthy lentil soup. This felt like a love letter to French cuisine: simple ingredients showing their true selves and blowing everyone away in so doing. The humble lentil finally had that moment from an early 2000s rom-com that we’ve all been waiting for; Junk Ditch took the lentil’s glasses off and–oh là là! Who knew the lentil could be so sexy?
The salad course was, unsurprisingly, delicious. Endive and Radicchio Salad with Roquefort, ham, walnuts, and tarragon vinaigrette. There was also a citrus element–perhaps dried nectarine–I won’t pretend to know when I really have no clue. But, it added such a lovely, bright, acidity to the salad. I personally love balancing tarragon with citrus, like orange, so this was a welcome flavor profile. The earthy, buttery crunch of walnut. The salty bite of ham. The funky, creamy, decadent bursts of Roquefort. All flavors in bed and having a fun time with peppery arugula and just slightly bitter radicchio. To pair, a pale lemon sip of Roche Guilhem Jurançon Blanc Sec. This ultra silky wine gives off oodles of orchard fruits and made the salad course seriously dreamy. Give me a glass of this and I’ll always, happily, eat my vegetables.
I will say, unapologetically and emphatically, that the third course of the evening was my absolute favorite. While, perhaps, the most traditional in preparation–the Sole Meunière with brown butter, capers, Pommes Aligot, and parsley was a distillation of what makes French cuisine so intoxicatingly delectable. Perfectly flaky, tender fish in a sauce of nutty brown butter and salty capers sat upon a heaping bed of cheesy, creamy Pommes Aligot. For those not in the know, Pommes Aligot is somewhere between fondue and mashed potatoes. If that made you say, “Yuck,” I retract the statement and simplify my explanation to: they’re basically just the best cheesy mashed potatoes you’ve ever had. This is the plate that I want daily. This is the plate that I would never, ever tire of eating. It was nicely paired with the Bouchard Aîné & Fils Chardonnay. This Bourgogne white wine is an easy sip, with characteristics of oak and light, crisp notes of pear, green apple, and stone. While I loved the pairing: I would never sip a Chardonnay again if that was the price I had to pay for filling the rest of my days with Sole Meunière. I’m serious. This might be the biggest compliment I’ve ever paid anyone.
The next plate was Pork Pâté. I am a girl who unapologetically loves pâté. I just ate some two days ago. I have some in my refrigerator as I type this. I’ll probably be eating more pâté in the coming days. Genuinely, I can’t get enough of the stuff. If you give me some crackers, or toasty bread, and a bit of pâté: I will gaze at you lovingly like there’s no other person on this planet as gorgeous and special as you are. This plate was slightly unlike other pâtés that I have enjoyed. Served with cornichon, beets, mustard, and microgreens–the portion was hefty, the texture dense, and the flavor was bombastic. To pair, the Louis Bernard Côtes du Rhône Rouge. I believe this is a red blend composed of primarily Grenache; but don’t quote me. I like wine, but I’m no sommelier. And, ultimately, unless you’re a total wine snob you probably don’t care what grapes the wine was made with–you just want to know how it tastes. (I like that about you. No snobbery. Just brass tacks and wine love. Good for you.) Think black currant, plum, and a hint of licorice. Definitely not a heavy red or aggressively tannic. An enjoyable sip, for sure.
As if we weren’t already thoroughly well-fed and completely spoiled by our meal, the final savory plate of the evening was aged strip steak, parsnip purée, mushrooms, and bacon lardon. The aged strip steak was cooked to rosy pink perfection. So tender: no steak knife needed. The sauce served with it–which, to me, resembled a classic, French, red-wine-based Bordelaise–was heavenly. This all sat above a bed of surprisingly sweet, whipped parsnips. I enjoyed the contrast between the deep umami-rich mushroom caps, crisp bacon lardons, steak with decadent sauce and the creamy, slightly sweet parsnips. To pair, the Château Larose-Trintaudon Cru Bourgeois Bordeaux. When somebody wants a big, bold French red wine–this is it, fam. Blackberry, cherry, leather, and spice: I would sip this again, happily, especially with a nice, aged strip steak.
For our dessert course, chocolate tart with raspberries, Chantilly cream, and a quenelle of lemon thyme sorbet upon a bed of oat crumble. This was, perhaps, one of the best desserts I’ve had in quite awhile. Especially after a multi-course meal of stunning quality, the dessert has to be really exceptional in order to be memorable. Simply being passable isn’t enough–if the dessert isn’t phenomenal, it pulls down the tone of the whole meal. This dessert did exactly what it needed to do and exalted all the remarkable plates that came before it. A crisp, butter tart shell encased a decadent, utterly luxurious chocolate filling. Upon the bed of chocolate, perfect ripe raspberries perched–dotting the circumference of the tart. The lemon thyme sorbet was exceptionally sharp, but was balanced by the oat crumble and served as a refreshing balance to the decadence of the chocolate and raspberry tart. Though, perhaps I’m an outlier, because I didn’t feel the tart needed to be balanced–I would take that chocolate tart to the face, fearlessly, without a glass of water. And I’d do it happily. Of course, I was spoiled and didn’t need to, because not only was there refreshing sorbet, but there was also wine to pair. With dessert, I enjoyed a glass of VillaViva Rosé Cotes De Thau. I’ve enjoyed this wine before–it’s an absolutely lovely little sip. Given the notes of strawberry and raspberry, I can see why it would make sense with this dessert course. It’s a pretty light wine, so I feel like the chocolate perhaps overpowered some of its more subtle nuance–but, that’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy the pairing. A chocolate raspberry tart, lemon thyme sorbet, and a glass of rosé–what’s not to enjoy? This is my idea of paradise.
I was in love with French cuisine before I sat down at dinner. So, perhaps, I am biased. But seldom is a meal so good that the morning after, and even for days to follow, it lingers in my memory like a haunting refrain. Maybe it was the company. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the Pommes Aligot. I’ll never know the exact moment that it occurred, but I can attest that my meal at Junk Ditch transformed my love for French food into something stronger. What’s stronger than love? If I say that the memory of this meal is something I will forever cherish: is my point clearly made? If I tell you that I am burning with a passion ignited anew for la cuisine française, will you understand? Apparently, sometimes it’s not just simple ingredients that are transformed in the culinary process. Sometimes, the experience is so entirely magical that the diner is transformed, too.
Plonk & Pleasure 