The last ONCE of Winter (the last meal for me?)

When I started cancer treatment, I knew I might reach a point at which eating would be at best unpleasant and at worst impossible. Once treatment is over, there will still be a chunk of time before my tastebuds returned (and some tastes may change completely).

Result: I have to assume that any really good meal could be my last, and therefore all opportunities for really good meals should be pounced upon and devoured.

Which is how I ended up claiming (in pathetic tones), "This might be the last chance I have to eat well" at the Bloc 11 pop-up, Journeyman and Craigie on Main. And then going out and eating, happily, elsewhere.

Okay, but this time I'm serious. I just finished seven of 35 radiation treatments, and already feel sore-throated and dry-mouthed. And it's going to get worse before it gets better.

So I was delighted that I was still in good shape for The Last ONCE of Winter, another of JJ Gonson's wild rides into local, seasonal dining. This ten-course extravaganza was slated to include some of the dishes featured at Valhalla, which I missed.

(Read about previous adventures with Cuisine en Locale's One Night Culinary Events.)

We trudged through a late (and quite unnecessary) snow shower and arrived to a table of glistening oysters. Which I can't eat right now — boo!

But they were being shucked by the lovely Trevor, who first introduced me to JJ and also to the fab Five Corners Kitchen in Marblehead — yaay!



As usual, the menu for the evening was upon the blackboard with extra notes. Don't worry if you can't read it; I'll walk you through.



First up, some lovely lamb from Stillman's Farm, with sweet roasted beets and a yogurt sauce (the note says, "It's a sheep/goat's milk mix! It's so good and you can get it in Belmont!").



Next, mussels in a bourride broth of garlic, tomatoes, wine and beer. I wasn't sure whether I should eat the mussels, given my allegedly compromised immune system. But they smelled so frickin' good that I couldn't just let them sit there.



From bourride we moved on to bunny, braised in tomatillos, fall-apart tender, and combined with Baer's beans. If dried beans are better than canned, Baer's are better dried beans than most dried beans. This was a perfect winter dish.



And then: ribs! Juicy Stillman's pork, marinated in apple cider, served with purple potatoes. Take a moment to admire the fat.



And take another moment to admire some of the chefs working on the ribs.



Next: porridge, cheese and onion flavor. For realsies. This was apparently a big hit at Valhalla. It's hard to describe, so I'll let the Lovely Locavore Ladies take care of the details.



And then a lovely piece of beef brisket with pureed root veggies (heavy on sweet parsnips) and pickled beets that carried a hint of fennel.



Next up, fishcakes. I'm not entirely sure why the menu ran this way — from oysters to lamb to beef to fish, rather than starting light and ending rich and heavy — but after so much big meat, the fish worked well. On top of which, I'm a sucker for fishcakes.



These came with young greens and flowers from NorthStar Farm in Westport that had been picked and driven into Somerville, through the snow, just for us to eat.



By this time, eight courses in, we were all flagging. The room was warm (how warm? I had to take off my hair) and the hour was late. And yet somehow, JJ managed to get us to take a (belated) seventh-inning stretch. I'm disappointed that my camera failed me for once, as I was sure I'd captured video of 40-some people singing "Sweet Caroline" while JJ danced wildly in the kitchen.

You'll just have to take my word for it.

Next came a sorbet to cleanse the palate, featuring last year's peaches. There was a little too much Pernod (or some other anis liqueur) for my taste; I'd have preferred to get a clearer promise of summer flavor. But perhaps that was the point. We're still too far from peach season. For now we just get a cloudy hint of what's to come.



And finally, a lovely selection of cheeses. Before:



After (or perhaps, before demolition):



By this point I was fading, so remember only that there was Bayley Hazen Blue from Jasper Hill, plus a fabulous, nutty 10-year-old Gouda, and some others whose names I don't recall but made me think of Yma Dream.

The next day, when I went for my radiation treatment, the technician asked, "How's your appetite? Any loss of tastebuds?"

I just smiled.

Huge thanks to JJ and her pirate crew!



And congrats to Janna for attending her tenth ONCE!

Back to Hell ONCE more

If you had descended into the underworld, and come face to face with demons writhing in lust, shaking with wrath, howling in violence, would you go back?

How about if the food was really good?

And thus we found ourselves once again traveling through Dante's nine circles at a re-staging of last year's ONCE in Hell, with players from the A.R.T. providing the theatrics and — more importantly — JJ Gonson and the Cuisine En Locale pirates in the kitchen.

Many of the elements, both food and performance-wise, were close to last year's production, with a few small tweaks and, in some cases, major redesigns.

The space used the same layout, with one big improvement: where last year the food prep happened in a separate space away from the action, this time the kitchen was tucked along the back wall.



It seems like a cramped area from which to feed more than 100 people, but JJ does amazing things from the teeny kitchen at the regular ONCE dining space. It was nice to be able to watch her crew work.

Meanwhile, Virgil moved from table to table, warning us to prepare for the journey ahead.



Last year's limbo was bread and water and zombie-like waiters; this year, the servers were stuck in an endless repeating loop of fake cheer, while a singer gave us "The Girl from Ipanema" over and over and over ...



And then we started our descent. First floor: Lust, again an oyster shooter in a sharp apple mignonette. Lucifer stopped by to get us in the mood.



Next up, Gluttony. As with last year, it was beans (scented with allspice, perhaps?) plus juicy two-hander ribs, and also chicken feet.



This was all served in paper bowls, which at first seemed wasteful. But after encouraging us to take second helpings of everything, the server-demons brought out a trash cart and started throwing plates, beans, ribs and anything else into it.

Meanwhile, Lucifer was introducing Cerberus. But where was the beast?

Oh. Inside the trash cart. Joyously smearing itself in beans and glitter.



Once the last of the beans had been cleaned up, we continued the descent to Avarice. As with last year's ONCE in Hell, the game show was Squander or Hoard?

This year's dish was simple and perfect.



Fresh corn polenta, full of end-of-summer flavor, and apple sauce, rich pink in color, sweet and refreshing. It's the dish that stands out most, and the one I keep thinking back to.

Next up: Wrath. The angry salad was this year enhanced with freshly sprouted mung beans:



And this was one of the few places where the theatrical component didn't quite work.

Last year's Wrath saw the demons whipped up in an unrestrained fury; this year, we listened to The Smiths' "Last Night I Dreamt that Somebody Loved Me" while Lucifer slouched and sighed and complained about being misunderstood.

This wasn't Wrath. It was Mope.

Though maybe that's more frightening.

And then we reached Heresy. Last year that meant raunchy nuns; this year, Lucifer, as the leader of a religious cult, decided it was time for us to shuffle off this mortal coil and handed out poison.



(Okay, it was actually a light lobster salad with puff pastry coffins. Though as The Boy has a seafood allergy, it was pretty realistic for him.)

Lucifer kept encouraging us to eat. "There are no convulsions with this one." And then the waitstaff all died.

Most of them recovered quickly, except for one girl who stayed down for a long time, unmoving.

But somehow, more disturbing was the behavior of some diners who started taking photos with her: Hey, look! I'm with a dead body!

Yeah, I know it wasn't real. But it still felt inappropriate and, well, rude.

It got my gander up just in time for Violence. Hooray! I was hoping for a repeat of last year: the lovely Jen's refreshing and pure beet soup and the eerie, terrifying demon's song.

The soup we got, and it was just what I'd wished for.

And the performance was good — a haunting acoustic rendition of Sufjan Stevens' "John Wayne Gacy, Jr" while a shackled demon in clown make-up juggled beets, dripping red juice on the floor.

It should have been a beautiful moment. But for me, it was marred by the fact that half the audience believed it was a comedy piece. Whether they weren't listening to the lyrics, or weren't making the connection, I can't say. But they laughed. They thought it was funny.

Maybe theirs are the houses to stay away from.

Next was Fraud, which began with a TV chat show-style interview that graphically described how foie gras is made (somewhat lecture-y, I thought) and ended with faux gras, whose provenance we could not guess. Potato? Cream cheese?

JJ, a little help here?

And then we reached Treachery. As with last year's ONCE in Hell, this course centered on the evils of corporate junk food. Which meant — oh yay! — we got the most annoying song in the world again.

The menu listed the dish for Treachery as "chicken hand pie." Chicken-hand pie? Hardly likely. Chicken hand-pie? Well, almost:



CHICKEN-HAND-PIE!

The small but perfectly formed pasty (as my people call it) came in a bag with a disturbing Mad Libs game; you can see that, and the entire menu, over at the Lovely Locavore Ladies blog.

And then an angel appeared.



And we all went to heaven.



And lo, there was pumpkin cheesecake.

ONCE Cheese: a formidable formaggio feast

The thought of willingly subjecting oneself to a ten-course fromage-fest in 80-degree heat may not be the most compelling. It conjures up images of chewing on sweaty cheese (are there any two words that are less attractive together?) in a humid Limburger fug.

But last night's dinner was not likely to involve any such thing, created as it was by JJ Gonson of Cuisine en Locale and her team.

JJ's One Night Culinary Events (aka ONCEs) are designed to highlight the best in local, sustainable produce, with an emphasis on quality. To ensure the latter for this dinner, JJ had enlisted the help of Formaggio Kitchen. Expert cheesemonger Vince was on hand to talk us through each of the selections we'd be sampling during the evening.



Note the guy in the blue shirt with the microphone; apparently 'BUR was recording the event.

So — let's eat some cheese!

Course one was a Hillman Farm goat-cheese blintz with a rhubarb compote, the fruit providing a tart, refreshing contrast to the creamy filling.



Next, a fabulous Brie-like cow's milk cheese called Weybridge. It was light and grassy and perfect in a salad with peppery arugula and radishes.



And then a dish at once comforting and complex: Welsh rarebit made with tangy, nutty Pawlet, a raw cow's milk cheese from Consider Bardwell Farm.



But wait; there's more. How about a fluffy frittata made with Riley's Coat, a raw goat's milk cheese from Blue Ledge Farm with bitter greens and tiny pea tendrils?



Or a big bowl of creamy polenta with Landaff, a Caerphilly-like cheese from New Hampshire?



Landaff is one of a number of cheeses aged at the Cellars at Jasper Hill, whose vast underground vaults provide valuable aging space for the cheeses of smaller producers (and are reminiscent of the last scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark).

Next came the one savory dish that involved meat: a Philly cheesesteak, with beef from Stillman Farms and clothbound Cabot cheddar. Though it wasn't authentic cheesesteak (in that we didn't eat it leaning forward, feet apart, to avoid pepper-and-onion-spattered shoes) it was good enough to make me want to boo Santa.



Next, turnip and cheese. Sounds lame and sad, right? But no. This was warm, sweet, tender, roasted Hakuri turnip — you can also eat them raw — from Hutchins Farm in Concord, paired with a wedge of nutty, Gruyere-like Ascutney.



And then the last savory course, and one without which a cheese-themed dinner would be incomplete: mac & cheese. The star here was the Butterwick, made at Twig Farm in Vermont using cow's milk. The whole creamy mess was topped with potato chips for a crispy crust.



Time for dessert — ish. After the success of the bacon-as-meat-candy tart served at ONCE Beer, JJ turned it up to eleven with (be still my beating heart!) chocolate-cured bacon.

Chocolate. Cured. Bacon.

Turns out there's a place right in Somerville that creates this amazing thing. And salumiere Matthew from Happy Pig Salumi was on hand to tell us more.



And the result? Okay, the photos don't do it justice: imagine a mouthful that combines butter and oats and bacon and caramel and onions and chocolate and Bailey Hazen Blue, a raw cow cheese from Jasper Hill (they of the Cellar).



It's not the prettiest thing, but it is teh awesomest.

Okay, maybe the second-awesomest, because the final dessert was amazing: a light, creamy, ricotta semifreddo served in a fresh strawberry soup.



The fresh cheese was an ideal pairing with the sweet fruit, and was the perfect bookend to the cheese/fruit dish that started the evening.



Did we overdose on cheese? No. Will we be slamming Metamucil shots for the next week? Hardly.

Will I be more likely to look for locally produced dairy delights in future? Most definitely.

ONCE Beer: Hooray beer!

I don't often drink beer. But when I do, I prefer it to be accompanied by a parade of meats and cheeses.

Which is lucky, really, because that's what I got at this month's ONCE event, the most recent themed dinner from JJ Gonson and the amazing peeps at Cuisine en Locale.

Previous ONCE dinners have involved eating insects, dining in Hell, consuming good fortune, and being brunchy. They're always unexpected, creative, locally sourced and completely delicious. So even though The Boy and I are not particularly beer people (we're more into creating cocktails), we weren't going to pass this up.

As always, the menu was up on the board (this is the second half):



As people began to arrive and mingle, we snacked on popcorn topped with nutritional yeast:



and homemade pretzels.



The set-up for this event was more casual than the usual ONCE dinners; rather than table seating, there were groups of chairs arranged throughout the space.

This made for a more low-key party atmosphere, but also meant you had to keep an eye open for the arrival of the next course. Case in point: we almost missed the arrival of the crockpot of Allagash rarebit.



I've only know rarebit as a comfort food dish served over toast. This was not that. It was a strong, sharp kick in the pretzel.

And then JJ (check out the fabulous purple pants!) welcomed us and explained the next course.



We were each to take an oyster and a shot of beer, and join in a group toast. Prost!



(Thanks to Janna, the hand model.)

Oh, also, as noted at the beginning, I'm not a beer expert. So I don't remember what we drank to toast, but it did balance beautifully with the oyster. Hints, anyone?

I also don't remember much of the beer I tried during the night. Most people brought stuff to share, and there was a lot of discussion at the sampling table.



Next, JJ brought around ploughmans (i.e. cheese and chutney sammidges).



The cheese was a bold, sharp two-year-old Cabot, paired with pickled peach chutney made from last year's harvest.



The bread was from Pain D'Avignon in Hyannis (who created the decadent lamb confit burger for Lamb Jam in March).

I believe there are few things in life finer than a nice cheese sandwich (the default comes with Branston pickle) so this course made me very happy.

When we'd arrived that evening, JJ was outside with a kettle grill, firing up chicken wings for the next course. "They're really just a vehicle for the sauce," she said.

The wings were tender and juicy, with a sweet/sour coating. But yeah, whatevs. Tangy, creamy bleu cheese sauce.



And then pork tenderloin from Stillman's. This was a revelation; I'm used to pork being either pink and dry-ish (i.e. ham) or white and juicy (i.e. pork). This was pink and ... springy. Yielding. Bouncy.



Next up, short ribs. The photos do not do justice to the fatty, sweet, perfectly sauced fabulousness.



But wait, there's more meat. Brisket, braised in porter, served with organic sauerkraut. Deep and sweet and sharp and bright and crunchy and flippin' lovely.



Another way this ONCE dinner was unlike the others: a distinct lack of veggies. Not that there's anything wrong with that. When the subject is beer food, you don't expect salad.

But at the same time, I enjoy En Locale's skill with seasonal produce, because they understand that sometimes the simplest preparation is the most effective. I still think their best dishes were the sauerkraut/beet juice course and the kale salad course at the Hell dinner.

But really, the only veg for beer is potato, and the next course was a double-stuffed Yukon Gold topped with an emerald fiddlehead fern.



We've been making the most of fiddlehead season this year, so it was nice to see them here. Also, fabulous fluffy cheesy potato!



Next up, a perfect lamb samosa with a little more of the peach chutney:



And then a perfect accompaniment for beer: nachos!

(Actually, just calling them "nachos" is unfair; it suggests they're somehow in the same category as the unfortunate objects you get from a gas station. It would be akin to saying I write about food, just like M.F.K. Fisher.)



There was pulled pork; there were from-scratch refried beans; there was a bright, fresh, early corn relish. It was heavenly.



Okay, enough of the meat — time for dessert! Well, kinda sorta. Almost.

Five words: bacon-as-meat-candy tart.



Again, the photos don't do it justice. How to capture the warm, buttery crust? The salty smokiness of Trevor's bacon? The sweetness of caramelized onion topped with caramel????

The tart was served in tiny squares, which was just fine; the flavors were so rich and intense that anything larger would have been too much. This was perfect.





And finally, around three hours after the popcorn appetizer, we reached the final course: a puddin' cup of dark, complex chocolate mousse made with Berkshire Brewing Company's Imperial Stout.



By this time, we were sleepy and floaty and very happy. Everyone seemed to be wearing the same expression as Eric and Nicky:



Outside, the night was stormy; torrential rain, flashes of lightning. Inside, things were pretty damn good.