Happy belated Easter!
Boy, did I have grand plans for Easter dinner. Pan seared duck with a sweet cherry port sauce and ham and cheddar biscuits were to be the main players, served with an array of fancy sides (including my go-to dish of garlic roasted asparagus). But alas, there was nary a parking spot at the Hannaford, and the guilt of an overpriced meal in this time of self-imposed but entirely necessary frugality was overwhelming. Enter, the Ghetto Easter Feast: Leek confit with feta and cider confit with apples and calvados on homemade french bread crostini, whipped sweet potatoes and honey, and beer battered asparagus and white mushrooms with a lime-scented mayonnaise.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t exactly ghetto. In actuality, the dishes themselves were somewhat impressive (if I do say so myself ahem ahem). But thrown together as they were, it just seemed….not Easter-y. It wasn’t jubilant and extravagant, there were no friends or family gathering in the kitchen, no ruckus, no awkward stories told at the dinner table. For food to be truly wonderful, to make a meal more than just a grouping of complimentary dishes arranged in an orderly fashion, you need hustle and bustle, hugs at the door. Don’t get me wrong, I had a wonderful Easter with just my husband and I. But, well, I think you understand.
Another thing a meal needs is meat, in my opinion. And that is one thing this meal lacked. It was unintentionally vegetarian. Most of the ingredients were purchased at what will soon be our corner store, which is essentially a one-room indoor farmer’s market. It is marvelous! I would say about 75% of the store is locally made or grown, from Grandma’s eggs to tomatoes and turnips to the Cajun spiced spreadable cheese. I can’t believe we are going to live just minutes away from this little slice of heaven.
So without much ado, I give you…the budget feast. (My husband got mad when I expressed my disappointment in the meal. He said it was lovely and fantastic and other very nice things. Ergo, budget. And re-reading the menu, I guess it makes more sense. Oh how I hate to admit he’s right.)
“And he departed from our sight that we might return to our heart, and there find Him. For He departed, and behold, He is here.” St Augustine