Bistros and (Foot)balls

I don’t want this to be deflating, but boy, this has gotten out of hand.  Nothing like giving the rabid NFL crowd the hint of a coverup/scandal/cheating and they can’t get enough.  Talk shows light up with “Bob from Dallas” who is sure that aliens came down and substituted the footballs, or that criminal Belichick and his partner in crime Brady are lying.  No facts mind you, but they are damned sure of it..  Sheesh..  Drop the puck, so to speak.  Too bad there’s another whole week to endure.. Or, tonight you can watch the Pro Bowl…. Not.

Anyway, back to more important matters like food.  Having done a “just right” entry, I have to follow up with, I don’t know, really right?  A different category entirely, but had a dinner at (sorry) Bistro Belle Maison at the Blue Heron Inn (whew) while MFO was cavorting in Wisconsin.  We don’t frequent the place a lot, but not sure why.  The food on that visit was superlative.  As  you may recall on the weekends (call first) the sitting room of the Blue Heron B&B is transformed into a restaurant.  I do have to admit that it looks more like a sitting room with tables than a restaurant, but that’s okay.  They are spaced far enough apart that you can have your own conversation without informing the table next.  Plus they are nicely set with small touches like a salt box instead of a shaker

The menu, which is printed for each weekend’s seatings, is composed of about five “small plates” and about same or less “main plates”.  The service is very informal, more conversational than stilted, with thank God, no speeches, and usually begins with informing you what they are out of for the evening, or maybe that trout is now substituted for the Corvina.  The wine list is somewhat limited but always contains some unconventional selections.  They also have a full bar, with some unusual bottles, like Green Hat Gin. The food choices are equally imaginative, and may have you (excuses please) grabbing for your cell phone to look up what “pinxto” means such as we encountered as: “lobster pinxto, light tempura batter, green tomato relish, aioli”.  Turns out they are kind of similar to satays, i.e.,  small hunks of "something" (in this case lobster) on a stick.   The term "pinxto" is of Spanish (particularly Basque), origin and is sometimes spelled “Pincho”.  However or whatever they are, they were very good, and as described, quite light on the palate

Another small plate of a radiccio and pear, chevre, and candied nut flat bread with mushroom – shallot white sauce is barely visible in the above image. Both were quite enjoyable.  A shared main plate of New Zealand Lamb chops, served with (nice touch) local yogurt tzatziki and eggplant napoleon rounded out the dinner.   As you may know, the Bistro is situated on the Solomons behind what was once Kim’s Key Lime Pies, (now Lotus Kitchen and...) so of course we had to have a two fork piece of that to finish.

As usual around here, you can’t go anywhere without seeing somebody you know, and there was a couple (of feeder readers) at an adjoining table who allowed me to take a shot of the Trout dish they enjoyed.

And, someplace along the way, the chef/owner Amanda, came out and chatted with everybody.  She is another local gem that we can count ourselves lucky to be able to enjoy her craft.  It is a place well worth your attention.  And of course to honor the food you must be

DFD

Bookends:

MFO arrived safely home from Wisconsin after two grueling days behind the MOMSTER

I am always gratified when somebody else shares similar feelings about things that drive me (further) nuts, like using the “Y” word for food and the unfortunately widespread use of “Guys”.  So it warmed the Feeder's heart to see this from a daily column (Rant&Rave) in the Seattle Times which reposts various social media entries, usually one rave and one:

RANT:  To the wait staff in supposedly sophisticated restaurants who habitually address my wife and I as “guys” as we sit down to dine. I assume they’re not blind and this insulting address is part of Seattle’s legendary and puerile informality. How gauche! Next time this happens we’ll call out the fool and leave.

HAH!!!!