(Yet another boring rendition of things we did in Faerie. Feel free to move on.)
Friday was supposed to be another work day for me, but I decided to play hooky instead, signing in long enough to clear timesheets and check critical e-mail. My folks came down with my nephews, Rob and Sean, to swim and play with Katherine (tremendous fun), and then the folks left with Katherine, leaving us on our own.
Margie and I ran off to Fry’s, always a dangerous experience. As it worked out, most of what we found was what we came for — an extra battery and SD chip for Jim’s camera, and a major memory upgrade for the Ks’ PC. On the way home, we were advised to swing past a local K-Mart that was going out of business, and thus had major clearances going on. We found a few things there, too.
The secret part of the day’s plans, though, had to do with dinner. After the grand scheme to deceive me the previous night at Club 33, the plan was go surprise Margie with dinner at The Hobbit. That plan was slightly complicated when Mary showed up (we’d known she was coming, but Margie had talked with her last and had not confirmed, or passed on, that she was arriving Friday afternoon rather than Saturday day); given the Hobbit’s tight seating and reservation regimen, we were fortunate to be able to take her along (kudos to Ginger for swinging that).
The Hobbit is a small, old house in Orange, set up now as a restaurant. It’s a single-seating, fixed-menu, seven-course meal, and is always a faboo experience. The price is also fixed at $65, which, for the food and ambience, is an excellent deal.
This evening we arrived just in time, which meant not having a chance to hang out in the bar/lounge upstairs. Instead, we immediately went down to the cellar, which serves as hors d’oeuvres locale (with sparkling champagne) and where you make your wine selection.
The Hobbit has one of the top hundred or so wine cellars in the country, or so I read, with over a thousand bottles stocked, and the range and variety of wines is amazing, from the Bonnie Doon “The Heart Has Its Rieslings” (for $35) to the Petrus Pomermol Grand Vin 1971 (for $2200). (No, I can’t imagine any bottle of wine that good, but there you go.) There’s also a $40/person recommended wine flight. Fortunately, to help us, it turned out (which was part of the surprise on us both) that our oenophile friend, Ken Barasch, was filling in for the week as sommelier, and he was able to point us to a couple of good and tasty deals — a 2001 Au Bon Climat Pinot Noir (which, for a Pinot, was quite palatable), and a 2001 Ramian Chapter Cab (strong and smooth).
After munching on the very tasty goodies down there (though folks who’ve been there before nibbled lightly, knowing the volume of food to come), we adjourned upstairs to one of the dining rooms.
The first half of the menu was:
Seared Scallop with Lemon Grass Tea
Grilled Lamb Sirloin with Warm Goat Cheese Sauce
Roquefort Dressed Mesclun with Braised Belgian Endive and Poached Pear
All of which was yummy (even the exotic stuff that isn’t my usual cuppa). At those three courses, each served separately, they hold an intermission, which everyone desperately needs by that time. Folks can wander around the house, visit the kitchen and chat with the staff their, or go out to the little patio out front.
The patio engendered one of the more interesting conversations, as we noticed that the vine growing over it had some strange fruit. We asked one of the staff, who didn’t know, and the next thing we knew after we’d re-seated, Mike Philippi, the owner and executive chef, came by and asked about our “horticultural question.” Margie went off with him to look at the fruit, which he was puzzled by — so he called his folks, who’d been the original owners of the house.
Later on he came by the table again with the fruit, which appeared to be some sort of a fig — they actually sliced it open there and examined it, which evidently was great fun. I missed that, because Ken had dragged me down into the cellar for another bottle of wine, this a 2001 PlumpJack Cab, which was exquisite.
The second half of the menu:
Sorbet (to cleanse the palate)
Cote de Boeuf with Fresh Horseradish*
Boca Negra with Pineapple Ginger Salsa
*The horseradish was, according to Margie, very good, but she’s the only one who partook.
Margie ordered a port with dessert, and I ordered a Chandon XO Calvados brandy, but we were surprised by all being served (thanks, Ken and/or Mike, I never heard which) glasses of port for the table, a nice Smith Woodhouse Lodge Reserve.
All in all, dinner lasts there about 3½ hours, and we enjoyed every minute of it. We rolled out, listened to the van’s suspension squeak as we climbed in, and went to sleep at home very shortly thereafter.
This trip was no boon to my diet, I’ll tell you that.