The family of decay

Almost every time I really enjoy cheese I think back to a series of lectures with Thomas Badcock-real name. I wish I could get in touch with him again--the tall Englishman with a spotted bow tie who managed to highlight the history of cheese in such an intelligent and hilarious way that even the most doodle prone students were writing things down: luxury vs. survival, or Brillat-Savarin, a feeder? He encouraged enthusiasm for the cheese course, suggested thoughtful pairings, and dreamed of restaurants filled again with the aggressive stench of the cheese cart.

The Cheese Man first told me about the Family of Decay: cheese, wine, miso, cured meats, olives. Basically, things we've learned to ferment, treat, and preserve out of necessity, but which continue to evolve and change because we still eat them. Why? Because at the right moment, before ripeness turns to rot, before the Brie tastes like a bottle of ammonia, there's a window of perfectly delicious.

My family has just left after a wonderful visit here full of eating and drinking together in Napa. We ate at the French Laundry, in whose beautiful gardens my mother asked Thomas Keller, in his whites, "are you the chef? Do you know how long it took me to get a reservation here?" Oh yes. I don't know where to start with dinner at the French Laundry, I've wanted to eat there for so many years and flipped through the cookbook when I couldn't sleep. Classics from those pages suddenly appearing in front of me: Oysters and Pearls, Coffee and Doughnuts. It was surreal.

We also had dinner at Domaine Chandon, which was O.K. And we had a dinner at home. We couldn't fit eight people around our dining table, so some on the sofa, some on the floor; it really felt like home. Our menu:

mushroom foam
tiny Yukon baked with quail egg
lamb shank ravioli with spicy butternut broth

tomato granita, tomato and mozzarella creamwich, tomato water
seared scallops, fennel salad, blood orange olive oil
duck rillette, torchon of foie gras, smoked duck breast with blueberry gastrique, sauternes jelly
beetroot tarte tatin with Humbolt Fog

white chocolate, sherry, and plum trifle
rose turkish delight parfait on milk chocolate rice krispy cake

Apart from overcooking the quail eggs in the oven (should have poached them first then dropped them in the indent of potatoe), everything went really well. My dad went booze shopping with Glyn and Nishant, and had gathered a few bottles from our trip to Napa. We hadn't all been together since January and then it was only for a few days. So this was a really special meal. I'm so glad Martha and Stephen came too. And now?

Now my family's all gone, the fog is nuzzling up to the windows and I feel like drinking tea all the time. Tonight what began as tea--my mum brought me a golden bag of Kenyan--turned into an indoor picnic of various cheeses, crusty bread, saucisson sec, and some sweet sherry. I bought a Bucheron and aged Gouda at our wine and cheese store on main street, and had some leftovers from Cowgirl Creamery. Cashel Blue, Red Hawk, Humboldt Fog. They're my family now...