Thursday, August 16, 2007
9 dinner guests. 0 AC/electricity. 105 degrees.
Larry Bly
Larry Bly has plenty on his plate these days. He's got two TV shows on Cox Cable Roanoke. Click ahead for details and showtimes.
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I'm just back from my annual trek to Rehoboth Beach, Del., where I visit wonderful friends who have a huge home. They say that you don't know how many friends you have until you move to the beach and that's never been more true than with these folks. They entertain about half the year. Family and friends fill the numerous rooms during the warm months.
It's sort of like operating a B&B without the room charge. How they graciously do this month after month, year after year, is beyond me. But I'm among the many who are thankful that they do. Just like a fine hotel or a quaint B&B, things run along quite smoothly. Seldom do they break a sweat while feeding large numbers of people daily. That is ... until this time.
A sit-down formal dinner (minus the formal wear -- no one dresses up for anything at the beach) for nine was planned for 7:30, with guests to arrive around 6:30 for cocktails. Some of the food had been prepped -- crab imperial was assembled and ready for the oven, topping tilapia filets. The rice was in a baking dish, broccoli cleaned and ready to be blanched ever so lightly on top of the stove. Salad was in the refrigerator. A pie baked earlier lounged lazily on the sideboard.
At 6:10, the lights blinked, the electric went off briefly but came back on, much to our collective relief. Moments later, however, power went down again, this time for good. The 105-degree, record-breaking heat of the day had taken its toll on a substation and big pieces of ugly equipment caught fire, pitching about half of Rehoboth into a "no AC zone."
It was the worst that could happen. Sure, our hosts could have canceled the dinner. But there was a lot of fresh seafood that would go to waste. Bravely, perhaps foolishly, we decided to make this dinner engagement happen, no matter. After all, what else did we have to do?
Suddenly guests and hosts became as one, with suggestions flying about, regarding what could and could not be done as planned. Around 6:30, more guests began arriving. They discovered that what made their trip of a few miles already difficult (Rehoboth's main drag became a parking lot without stop lights) was about to change their evening as well.
Cocktails were no problem. Plenty of ice and mixers. Our plan to bake anything had to be re-evaluated. It was time to move outdoors, into the searing heat and bring out the charcoal grill.
Whatever we cooked would have to fit on top of its standard round surface. The rice was out, replaced with finely sliced potatoes, put into a packet of aluminum foil with a dollop of butter and then sealed. Same with the broccoli. As for the fish, the filets were transferred to a more handy sized baking tray.
At 7:30 we all sat down to a lovely candlelight dinner. Salads were served, still cold from the refrigerator. Chilled wine was served.
Conversation seemed livelier without the usual background music. Candles added wonderful ambiance and made us all look better than we really should have, even the women!
Finally, our man, Sam, pulled the two foil packets off the grill. Later, the filets, done perfectly, with mounds of beautifully browned crab imperial on top. All of it came together in the darkness of the kitchen and each guest was mightily impressed at the perfect meal. The rest of the conversation pretty much covered that subject -- and a few words about how much we take electricity for granted. By then it was much too hot to be any more philosophical.
Then dessert, a thick slice of the apple pie that had been baked earlier in the day, was served with very soft ice cream. As the day grew longer and the temperature inside started matching the outside -- around 89 degrees -- the guests began departing.
We foolishly turned down offers to go their air-conditioned homes, thinking that our own would soon roar into action. Dumb decision! Long after everyone left, deep into the hot, steamy night, we attempted to survive both indoors and out, but to no avail.
A final 11 p.m. attempt at sleep was gladly averted when Tom came around, announcing, "This is awful. No one's sleeping. We're getting in the car and going to any cool bar we can find." No one argued. We made a hasty retreat to a nearby lounge, where we spent the remainder of the evening with icy beverages and a very bad lounge singer. Really bad. The worst.
In the wee hours, around 3 a.m., I awoke to the light whisper of an AC fan in my room. Glory be! Electricity. Cool. Thus ended one of the memorable hot days of my life. Good food, good fun, good times. No sweat. Well, maybe just a bit, but you hardly noticed under that lovely subdued candlelight that made us all look so good.
Another thing
My readers hasten to correct me when I'm wrong and I gladly pass along those corrections to you. Mikki Y. wrote, "I read your recent review of Tong's Thai Too and wanted to clear up the confusion about the name. Tong is Thai for "gold" and the number of letters in Tong's Thai (9) signify good luck in Thailand." Thanks for straightening that out. Frankly, I'm Tong-Thaid. Or did I use that one already?
And another ...
L. Hoover wanted to know if I could find the recipes for Miller & Rhoads' chicken salad and its blueberry muffins. I've heard from more people who want recipes from the late Miller & Rhoads's Tea Room in downtown Roanoke than you can imagine. I've passed a goodly number of them along. However, I don't have either of these. Can anyone help? Just write me and I'll put it in a future column.
Bly for now!
