The Blonde II

The remainder of the evening, at this point, is a bit of a blur. Of course since I tutored under the great Alain Ducasse and was born with a nearly inhuman taste memory I remember the meal perfectly.

We began with Tempura Lobster Tails which were paired with a Cake bread Chardonnay. The chipotle smoked honey dipping sauce and buttery lobster meat were the perfect compliments to this chardonnay’s citrus and spice notes.

The story of how this meal ended up on our plates in Annapolis is quite extraordinary. Our host had discovered the caterer, Mr. Nguyen Thanh Binh, cowering inside his roadside banh xeo crepe stand, during that unfortunate war which so many Americans choose to forget. After B*d led his team in clearing out a particularly lethal nest of the Cong, “Thanh My Man” as he was subsequently called, was so grateful he whipped up a batch of the most amazing crepes B*d had ever tasted. Well, as you can imagine B*d, who stands down to no man save yours truly when it comes to obtaining a quality meal, had Thanh expatriated to the U.S. pronto and set him up in a D.C. catering business. As it turns out, Thanh was classically trained during the French Vietnamese expedition, and as a result of his savant like ability to whip up the most amazing sauces with virtually any ingredient at hand, almost immediately developed a devoted following among our country’s political and culinary elite.

As a semi tragic side note, Thanh was destined for television greatness when he was tapped by the Food Network in its early days to host “Thanh (as in Bam) Live!” Sadly, whenever he was expected to exclaim “Bam!” as his trademark exclamation, the poor soul would dive under the cooking counter and yell, “Incoming!” – An obviously traumatized response to his days during the war. Clearly, an unworkable situation, Thanh was replaced by some New Orleans based poseur who has gone on to assume the fame and glory that rightfully was should have been Thanh’s.

After the Lobster, Thanh brought out a selection seared tuna, and paired it with a lovely South African Chenin Blanc – Forrester, if I’m not mistaken. The combination was profound, the crisp slightly fruity Chenin cut through the meaty taste of the lightly pepper corned Tuna leaving a lingering sense of the tropics that our host said reminded him of some of the meals Thanh had prepared in ‘Nam prior to his expatriation. Following the Tuna, we were treated to the most succulent Veal filet I believe I have ever had. Served with a side of mustard spaetzle (Thanh could never get enough of sticking it to the French!), and lightly sauced with a foie gras – veal reduction the dish paired beautifully with a Chateneuf du Pape, that Thanh had selected from our host’s cellar. Decadent indeed! We finished on what was for me a bit of a down note, crème brulee (can we please retire this over-served dish for at least 2 decades?) that we enjoyed with a Moscato d’Asti.

Not surprisingly the Long Tall One and I were seated across from each other, and I’m a bit embarrassed to say that we served as a bit of an amusing side show for the rest of the guests. We had been obviously attracted to each other from the moment she walked through the door, and during dinner engaged in conversation to the exclusion of the others. I use the term “conversation” quite loosely here, as I’m aware that my SAGE peers would have been appalled to witness our vulgar performance.

Annie and I engaged in an endless debate. The topic didn’t matter and the fact that in most cases we were in complete agreement on the larger principle had no bearing on the tenor of our debate. The simple fact is that our budding romance (yes even then it was apparent – to the obvious delight of our conniving hosts!) was clearly fired by a passion born of the intercourse of our superior intellects. To agree would have been to lay impotent our desire for the thrust and parry that for the next few months would form the basis of our love.

Following cigars and after dinner drinks - Annie chose a Don Suerte vintage 1984, saying that the essence of bittersweet chocolate blended well with her 18 year old Lagavulen (I could not disagree) – we bid our hosts a good night. Realizing that Long, Tall Annie didn’t have a car; I offered to escort her home.

“That depends”, she said “I only ride in style you know”.

Resisting the urge to remind her of her “stylish” entrance, I simply hit the key fob on my BMW 7-series and enjoyed the glint of recognition in her eyes as she responded to the familiar “beep, beep”

“Oh, a 7-series?” she asked.

“Like Pavlov’s dogs” I thought to my self.

“Can I drive?” She purred.

Without a word I handed over the keys.

Little was I to know that this stunning woman who had already captured my heart was about to take me on the ride of my life!

Next: Annie’s beltway performance reminds me of my former love, Ms. Annette Meuvissen.