Feb. 22nd, 2013

snousle: (rakko)
Spending the weekend at Red Mountain, near Rossland, BC with my father and his wife. He is going to a medical conference tomorrow to satisfy his training requirements - although he's 74, he still practices nuclear medicine on a part time basis in Trail. And he still skis, a little bit.

Colleen, my distinctly not-evil stepmother, has turned into a remarkably good cook. I think her skills have now exceeded mine. Last night's seafood fettuccine was amazing enough, with its high lemon notes against a base of rich buttery scallops and prawns. But tonight - oh my God, I think I will just turn into a vegetarian now, since meat is never going to be the same again.

The butcher at the Huckleberry Market in Christina Lake gets Alberta beef, and he provided us with a two-rib prime rib, which we ate tonight, that has utterly ruined me. It's not so much the fine flavor and the fork-tender softness - it's the delicate, lacy texture of the flesh that makes it so exquisite. I have never seen a rare-cooked cut fall apart like that. Really, I have never had anything remotely like it, and now I understand why so many midwesterners complain about the beef on the West Coast.

I have to re-think my cooking now. It's not just the ingredients, it's also a certain hand with oils and seasonings that makes it feel like a true millionaires dinner. Eating like this every night would surely be fatal, but after a day on the slopes it's just the ticket.


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