I was off today, but that meant driving around, talking to purveyors, doing orders, etc. Melissa and I are enjoying a nice meal at the house, a rarity with our often-opposite schedules. Here's one of our house pasta dishes: melted sweet onions with peas in a light white wine-cream sauce with some chopped thyme and marjoram from the garden thrown in for freshness. To drink: a late vintage Paulaner.
What's happening now, besides some of the best weather of the year? Local strawberries.
These bright little beauties are red through and through, unlike most of those overgrown genetically-modified creations from the supermarket. I'm going to pick up a few flats tomorrow from Cottle Farms. (By the way, Cottle Farms has a stand on US-378 heading out to Lexington. The farm itself is on Bluff Road by I-77.)
Some people wonder who or what a chef is. This word is so often thrown about in today's world that its true meaning is obscured. "Chef" means "chief" in French. It's that simple.
What does that mean? It means having someone at the helm to steer the ship, provide a sense of direction for the restaurant, and generally keep the kitchen in good working order. In short, I'm the skinny dude walking around Motor in the black T-shirt and white apron. If I ever look grumpy it's because something isn't going as planned, which is . . . . perfectly. Chefs appreciate precision and attention to detail. Because no, it ain't like a show on The Food Network, with chances for second takes.
I'm excited about this blog. What it means for me is sitting back with a glass of wine and taking a minute to share what's going on: in our kitchen at home, at Motor Supply, at the farmers market, on local farms, in other restaurants, and beyond. It means talking about why we love food so much. My wife and I are going on vacation to Paris and Tuscany in several weeks. We thought it would be fun to do a photo blog detailing good food, which is how this whole thing started.
One more thing: The chef can't spell. Advance apologies.