One of the worst things about Alberta's current Covid-prevention policies and public health measures is that fully vaccinated folk can go out and eat at a restaurant, or see a movie, or go to a casino, and they may well run into people they know there, but visits to the home of another person are restricted to no more than two households at a time.
This is a real shame, because in addition to impacting things like playdates, in-person tabletop gaming groups and even family Thanksgiving dinners, it has really thrown a monkey-wrench into the semi-annual Geekquinox dinners we used to enjoy.
Pete used to host these brilliantly prepared and wonderfully themed meals close to the vernal and autumnal equinoxes but hasn't been able to do so since 2019's Blade Runner dinner.
Amidst all the other wishes for a return to normalcy and safety are very real desires to be hospitable, or break bread together, or commune with dear friends or try new things together, but alas, the current rules make such gatherings impossible, and technically illegal.
It's a real shame, too, because I can only imagine the sort of spread The Rare Hipster would have laid out for us after a two-year hiatus. I mean, he almost certainly would have found a way to make the menu topical.
And his love of combining common appetizers with exotic ingredients means we could have counted on something like jalapeno duck poppers, cooked on his Big Green Egg. I can almost taste the smokiness of the bacon, the sharpness of the jalapenos and the smooth, zesty filling made with cream cheese and duck. No barbecue sauce like one might find with Atomic Buffalo Turds (another staple appy among the Egg-head set), but enough cayenne in the mixture to put a little steam in one's stride.
Then a turn towards something a little less meaty, like immense teriyaki marinated king oyster mushroom chunks skewered between slices of crispy bacon. The texture of mushrooms is not for everyone of course, but that same quality makes them succulent traps for the flavours for both teriyaki and bacon, as well as the charcoal smoke rising out of the Egg.
Then perhaps a relocation towards Persia, and joojeh kebabs made of succulent chicken morsels marinated in yogurt, onions, lemon juice and saffron, and served hot off the grill with saffron rice. It can be hard keeping the rice moist over a long dinner party, but the chicken is low maintenance, and (presumedly) extremely tasty!
Later in the evening, as a preamble to the main, perhaps ramekins of truffle macaroni and cheese might be served, taking a rich comfort food and elevating it even further with the addition of shaved truffles and the astonishing boost of umami they bring to the dish.
And if history serves as any guide, said main would be served close to the witching hour, with no complaints due to the quality and volume of food presented up to that point.
After such a long break, a simple but enormous prime rib roast would seem to be an ideal choice - brilliantly seasoned and cooked at a low temperature for hours before searing the outside briefly at a temperature in excess of 500° Fahrenheit.
I can just picture it: medium-rare throughout, gloriously pink and soft enough for the generous slices to be cut through with the edge of one's fork if so desired. Lightly seasoned so as not to overpower the beef itself, and punched up by slivers of garlic cloves throughout the roast.
Abetted by a rich oxtail and red wine gravy and accompanied by mashed potatoes and turnips, Yorkshire puddings would no doubt be on hand to satiate any remaining carb cravings, as well as serving as delivery vehicles for a delicious gravy warhead. Roasted Brussels sprouts would be a welcome side, if anyone had the time, inclination and energy left to prepare them.
And if anyone had any room left, I am certain a dessert of some fashion - perhaps a light and fluffy angel food cake as a counterpoint to the solidity and density of the beef, and frosted with a lemon Chantilly icing that is almost more aromatic than sweet.
And a rich red wine to accompany the prime rib goes without saying, given the oenophilic inclinations of our gracious host. But perhaps there would even be new cocktails on hand. I know our hosts' daughter Elizabeth had been dabbling in tropically-oriented concoctions a couple of summers ago, with tremendous results, but what would really hit the spot is a creamy aperitif made with iced coffee, to aid us demi-centenarians in staying up to the wee hours after a long period of boredom-induced bedtime regularity.
Even more importantly than expertly prepared food and delightful libations would be the chance to share them with other people though - fully vaccinated and conscientious folk desperate for contact outside their households, eager for the chance to embrace friends new and old, to reconnect and catch up, to hug and share stories, to laugh and commiserate about jobs and families and the state of the world.
An opportunity to reflect on precisely how lucky we all are, despite everything.
Or, rather: how lucky we would be, if such a gathering were possible.
Ah, well; perhaps next year...
; )
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