I remember from a very young age looking upon it with disdain when my parents would make me bring my leftovers home from a restaurant. I hated having leftovers and I didn’t see it as my fault that restaurants served such large portions so I felt absolutely zero obligation to eat the inferior remains of yesterday’s meal. Leftovers also meant playing a game of evasion until I could cunningly hide my “To Go” sack in the garbage bin, and hope that the powers that be wouldn’t notice that yesterday’s leftovers had suddenly gone missing. Who wants to eat soft tacos that used to be crispy, or a burger with a soggy bun? I would ignore and ignore the stockpile of To Go containers, aluminum swans and Tupperware stacking up in the fridge - until the inevitable - Leftover Night. Once a week, whatever was left in the refrigerator, no matter how ripe or old, was stuck in the microwave and an insipid mound of mystery food would end up on my plate. In a battle of wills against my father, I would sit at the dinner table until 11’oclock at night waiting it out until one of us caved, postponing the inevitable for yet another day... Leftover Night, for me, was a barbaric form of torture; much like wearing pantyhose or getting a Brazilian Bikini Wax, only without the benefits. But this weekend, for the first time in 34 years, that all changed…
It all started yesterday with the Green Garlic Soup. A pureed soup, but not cream based, and laced with crème fraiche was silky and luxurious on the tongue; rich, but not heavy and with a gorgeous jade hue. The aroma of the soup was heady yet subtle, everything I liked about garlic and nothing I didn’t. Green garlic (or Spring Garlic, as it is also known), the immature shoot and bulb of the white garlic you buy in the grocery store, resembles scallions or spring onions. The shoot can be used in the same manner as scallions and can also be sautéed or grilled. It is much more delicate and subtle in flavor than their mature counter part, and completely lacks the pungency of mature garlic. In fact, I would be willing to eat it on a first date – even if I really liked the guy…
The restaurants name is Harvest Moon, a new restaurant on the
With little pleading, I was able to convince my mom, step-dad and same two friends who had gone last night - to go again tonight. I had to try the slow cooked squid with chickpeas and the halibut was calling my name.
The squid was cooked in red wine until it was soft and succulent. The chickpeas were firm yet creamy and were doused in a thick garlic sauce that should’ve been illegal. I had originally ordered the steamed halibut with mussels, clams, greens, harissa and charmoula but fortunately they were out and so I had the quail instead. Cooked to perfection, the quail had all the flavor of the grill and yet, thankfully, was not burnt nor undercooked – as is often the case. It was served atop a ragu of fresh fava beans and artichoke hearts, also cooked to perfection, and accompanied by grilled polenta that was slightly crispy on the outside, soft and creamy on the inside, and with a few nice stripes of char on it providing a lovely, smoky flavor and exhibiting for the first time that grilled polenta needn’t taste like particle board, and when prepared properly, can actually be divine.
Even with the quail being such a small bird, I still was not able to finish my meal and I wanted the flavors to linger... It was so perfectly prepared and so delicious that, for the first time in 34 years, I willingly asked the waiter to “pack it up” for me so that I could take it home and before we even left the restaurant I was already imagining eating it. Then, the inevitable happened. We arrived home and as I walked in the front door – I realized that I had forgotten my wonderful little parcel of leftovers at the restaurant… Perhaps saving me a game of hide-and-seek...
I’m fortunate though that the restaurant is right next to my mom’s jewelry store on the
Harvest Moon Café
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The update on my knee is that, along with the tear to my ligament, I also have a frozen joint. My physical therapist works me like a rented mule but I’m still not able to get my leg straight. I’ll be going for an MRI this week, talking to a doctor and deciding if surgery is the next step...
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