Well, that was probably the longest meal in history.
8 courses in 5 weeks.
Hope you weren't too hungry.
For awhile, I thought I'd bitten off more than I could chew.
The dishes came easily enough. It was the research— the wonderful bottomless pit of discovery— that held me up. It didn't help that it was also the busiest time of the year at the restaurant and with catering.
It had started with a season. A micro-season, actually. Indian Summer. A time that straddles the end of autumn and heralds the feast of Thanksgiving.
But food is never just about time. It's also about place. And it's always about people.
Food tells a story about people.
Historically, cuisine is shaped by people, culture, and geography. We live in a marvelous time when technology has shrunk the world, blurring borders and giving us access to unlimited streams of information. It's only natural that the influence of technology should find it's way into our kitchens. There is always more to learn.
I felt compelled to look back— way back— to the beginning. I sought to understand food at its most primal, and learned that food is inextricably bound to the people who prepare and eat it.
History is a quagmire. Only by looking back can we see how far we've come. In some ways, it's not very far at all.
Today, though, I'm looking forward. To a New Year. A new decade. And to new culinary adventures.
I can hardly wait!
This post is part of a tasting menu inspired by the indigenous foods and people of North America:
Indian Summer
Indian Summer :: the forest :: mushroom pine
Indian Summer :: the sea :: oyster seaweed
Indian Summer :: the earth :: burdock sunchoke onion
Indian Summer :: the field :: corn pumpkin bean
Indian summer :: the river :: trout birch sumac
Indian Summer :: the lake :: duck cranberry wild rice
Indian Summer :: the plains :: bison juniper chestnut
Indian Summer :: the woods :: oak maple hickory
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