For the past I don’t know how many years, my landlord/roommate has hosted a Friday night dinner for several of our friends. Actually, they were his friends, but over time they’ve become mine as well.
Although he’s never had any formal cooking lessons, Ed is quite a gourmet chef. Each new Friday is an experiment in pleasing everyone with a new dish.
You can’t please everyone. Liesl is on a gluten-free diet, Scott won’t eat pork or anything with sugar in it, and on and on it goes.
Last night we had crepes. Gluten-free crepes and, while they were tasty enough, they kept tearing. We put it down to the fact that they needed gluten to hold them together. Or maybe Xanthan gum, which Ed hadn’t thought of adding when he adapted the classic crepe recipe to a gluten-free version.
This morning I came down to a kitchen full of leftover crepe ingredients. Specifically, 5 varieties of shredded cheeses and some crumbled bleu cheese.
“Hot damn!” I thought. “Omelet time”
And now I’m sitting in my favorite writing chair, sated, fat, and lazy. A food coma, if you will. But as soon as I saw the cheeses, I knew I had my topic for this post.
Friday nights at Ed’s. Too much of a good thing? Or is that even possible?