Microkitchen #2

A Guest Author is introduced for this blog. A guest from last night's Microkitchen. Welcome- Peachy.

(Conner note: One major change occurred in the menu. We redid the soup and created a liver dumpling akin to a grandmother's recipe. The dumpling will arrive dry, in a bowl, and the broth will sprinkle down from above like rain.)

Last night at Chez Erin.

There is a profound difference between a dinner party and fine dining. So, why am I experiencing the tingle of luxurious anticipation I associate with a 3 for 30 at Carmelita? Simple; Nordo is on the move.

Though it may come as a surprise to some, I once aspired to wear the white hat and apron. Upon graduating, I took a summer internship in San Francisco at Greens Restaurant under Nordo Lefeski. I quickly discovered my career passions lay outside the restaurant industry. Nevertheless, Chef Nordo's whimsical (at times demonic!) food philosophy and deft hand with the amuse bouche made a lasting impression on my senses. When he confided his plan to leave the industry for a “more ferocious” approach to dining I insisted he contact me, should he find himself in the Northwest.

Imagine my surprise to receive a facebook message from Nordo, just last Thursday, inviting me to be the guest for a dinner party he was throwing. “I'm forcing the kind people who live at 421 Harrison to let me dirty all of their dishes, and spread my word to a handful of interested parties”.

My interest lies in Nordo's latest plot: The Modern American Chicken. I can picture your reaction. Chicken? Nordo has done extensive work in regional cuisine, his recipes surrounding the “ghost chili” are testament. But Chicken? It's so...everywhere. However, since I was clearly in the presence of food genius (not to mention the intimidating bottles of wine resting nonchalantly on the windowsill of the Capitol Hill apartment) I did as Nordo always says. I went with it.

Highlights included the appearance of that famous chili in a Ranier cherry reduction, whispering arrival of “Henrietta”.When the dessert was brought out, two women at the other end of the table began laughing uncontrollably. That's something unique to dining in a person's home, a feeling that was enhanced by Nordo's decision to hang a white sheet between the kitchen area of the cozy one bedroom and the dinner table. “You must experience the intended presentation. Do feel free to ask questions.”

Though there was a master chef behind a curtain, most of our questions were answered by a laconic young man in a pastel purple shirt, who drank but did not eat, and poured the wine. Nordo is opening a limited run restaurant in October. Judge the meal, and spread the word.

From the first course to the fifth it be came abundantly clear that this was not so much a meal as a story. A poem about a chicken – that would soon be edited to perfection.

By the end of the evening my dinner companions had agreed – the only flaw was found in the third course - the soup was to be as light and fluffy as a baby chick caught in a rainstorm. Apparently fluffy canceled her reservation. I blame the worms! our chef howled from the kitchenette. The man in purple rolled his eyes mouthing the refrain of the evening.

“Just go with it.”