bootleggers and springrolls

Last night we had the great pleasure of attending the wedding of a dear family friend, Helen. The ceremony was lovely with excellent musical performances from each of her sons, but you can guess where I'm heading with this entry--the reception had stellar food and drinks! Held at the Minikahda club, the event started with drinks and hors d'oeuvres on the upstairs balcony. As we overlooked the gorgeous view of lake Calhoun, we sampled fresh springrolls, cheese and marmalade canapes, avocado toasts, springrolls, cheesetoasts, and some more springrolls. When Chris ordered a Macallan from the bar he was given a juice glass full--what a way to start the evening! The gin and tonics, rum and cokes, and glasses of wine were free-flowing, but the star of the veranda was the bootlegger. I never got a definition of the bootlegger that would satisfy and engineer, but what I gathered in my scientific research was that it included something along the lines of gin, vodka, soda, lemon juice, and mint. It's like a mojito crossed with a long island iced tea and it is dangerously delicious. My mother wasn't sure what she thought of the bootlegger so she had to sample several of them to decide!

People were noticeably hesitant when told to go back inside and find their seats for dinner--why would we want to lose our view or place at the bar?! But grudgingly we went and were pleasantly surprised by the immediate wine service, not to mention places at a table with fun friends and seats near the band. The dinner started with a beautiful homegrown tomato salad with bocconcini (tiny balls of fresh mozzarella), basil oil, shaved radishes, and microgreens with a flavor of anise. It was honestly beautiful, and a perfect combination. I wonder just what homegrown meant, since I didn't see a garden on site with enough tomato plants to feed 200 person banquets every couple nights. I assume they meant local, and I love that concept, though unfortunately it was a bit early in the year for the multi-colored fruit, considering what a cool tomato season we've had so far. The most fun thing on the plate was a tiny, dark green, half-orb with white spots, which I first assumed was just a variety of heirloom tomato I'd never seen before, but it turned out to be a crisp cucumber! I was fastidious about getting a taste of each element on the plate in every bite, and yet I still managed to clean my plate first among my table-mates.

The main dish came next and included a generous halibut fillet encrusted with scallops and lightly drizzled with beurre blanc, seated next to green and yellow beans with baby carrots (the real baby carrots, not just the lathed down excuse for baby carrots found in a pre-packaged bag), and a potato gratin wrapped in brick pastry and topped with some sweet cooked tomatoes. I couldn't remember what brick pastry was when I first read the menu card, but it's much like phyllo--light and flaky and wonderfully crisp when cooked with the right amount of butter! The food was attractive and tasty if a bit overdone and underseasoned. It must be hard to manage perfection at such a high level for such a crowd, though! I don't mean to complain either--I managed to suffer through the plate and even found room for a slice of crusty seeded bread with butter--yum!

Dessert included a small triangle of flourless chocolate cake and a martini class full of fresh berries with lemon curd. It was a great crowdpleaser--even for my mother who stubbornly refuses to like, or even eat, chocolate. I even brought her to Switzerland twice and she won't convert. I know, I don't understand it either. But she felt included in the dessert even if she passed the cake to my dad. She made up for the lack in calorie consumption from cake by imbibing several glasses of champagne instead. Who wouldn't when they serve Veuve Clicquot to everyone!

The party was a hit. We all had a blast, though some maybe aren't enjoying themselves as much today! I always love weddings. And I laughed especially hard when the priest made a joke about what three things a woman sees as she first steps into the church--the aisle, the alter, and him. Not to be confused with the thought "I'll alter him". After sharing in such a beautiful event, I don't think Helen would alter a thing.