Sherry and Sardines

INWOOD foils cooking plans once again. I decided, last night, that I would make a Spanish-themed/tapas dinner to go along with a bottle of Lustau sherry I had bought at PJ's. The first thing that went wrong was the anchovy-butter log that I was going to make (a trick I'd learned from one of the assistants in wine class: chop anchovies into very small pieces, combine with a stick of butter and form into a log; serve it on some nice bread or on steak before cooking). I purchased a can of anchovies in oil that I thought (in addition to making the butter log) would pair nicely, as is, with the sherry for our first course. 

After preparing some almonds for roasting, I excitedly opened the anchovies to drain, then set in a martini glass for course one. To my utter dismay, the anchovies were not anchovies at all, but sardines. 

Earlier that night at Fine Fare, there was a sign for sardines on sale, 5/$4. Always one to take advantage of a sale, I happily picked up a can to place into my shopping basket, but then I thought I'd one them up and buy some nicer ones in olive oil (for just $1.29).

Well that 5/$4 sign threw off all my concentration and I accidentally put a can of sardines into my basket without realizing that they, in fact, were sardines and not anchovies.

"David, are sardines and anchovies basically the same thing?"

"No."

Great. So I took out the roasted almonds, which browned a bit too much during all the fishy hullaballoo and went back out into the cold in search of anchovies.

None to be found.

Inwood foils cooking plans, once again.

So I instead decided to: 1. Cook up some chorizo in replacement of the anchovies; and 2. Nix the anchovy-butter log.

When I returned home, the almonds which I had left in the pan on top of the stove continued to cook and most of them were more or less burned. Things were going wonderfully. I tried to stay calm and started on the steak. I threw three or four fat slices of butter onto my skillet and began to fry the fillets.

They were much thinner than I had hoped for and the perfect slices with juicy, red centers that I was envisioning were becoming yet another passing dream. I checked on the baguette I'd had in the oven and so far, it was the only thing turning out nicely. I decided to slice the fillets and serve them on the baguette with some mayonnaise and sea salt, and make little sandwiches. (some cilantro would have been nice too.)

Without further ado, I called David in for our first course of chorizo, almonds and sherry. When I went to PJ's earlier that night, what I was actually looking for was the La Gitana Manzinilla Jerez we had had in wine class, but they didn't carry it. I instead went with another Manzinilla sherry they'd had, the Lustau, Light Manzinilla, Papirusa ($13.98). I chilled it in the fridge and at the initial whiff it seemed a little woodsy and rather volatile (15% alcohol). It was definitely much stronger than the La Gitana we'd had in class--a bit of acid, a good dose of tannins, quite alcoholic and some length on the tongue.

Tastewise, I wouldn't put it on the top shelf. But the more we ate the salted almonds and chorizo, the better the sherry became. And I'll say it once again--pretty volatile; just two glasses in and I was already feeling heady. (a good pick for dinner guests that you're afraid you might have some awkward silences with; after fifteen minutes of the stuff, chatting gears are pretty lubed) Incrementally, as we nibbled away on our tapas-sized steak sandwiches (which reminded me more of banh mi's than anything tapas-like), we neared the end of our "Spanish-themed dinner." During the dessert course (which I forgot to pick up while I was out), David switched from the Lustau to Casal Garcia. The Lustau was a bit too much for him...

SO, as I posted on my Facebook status last night, my Spanish-themed dinner went from Spain to Vietnam to Portugal. (Our ship had a little detour.)

As a former co-worker once said to me: People like us shouldn't cook.