*This post is an entry for Foodbuzz’ Project Food Blog. The prompt: host a luxury dinner party.  If you like it, vote for it using the widget on the sidebar starting Monday 10/4-Thursday 10/7. I would like to thank my guinea pigs guests- Jamie, Robert and Patrick, Ethan and Efrain, and my stellar husband, Jonas.  They gamely got in fancy dress, played along, and brought their A-game.

When I think of luxury I think of hedonism, bacchanalia and excess. Studio 54, in its halcyon days, was the earthly embodiment.  Steve Rubell, the flamboyant proprietor of the club, knew a thing or two about luxury.  Every night, hundreds of people lined up outside the velvet ropes of Studio 54 clamoring for admission into an enchanted world. Rubell hand-picked a select few to come in and take part in the madness. He called it mixing a salad- the art of acheiving perfect blend of black, white, gay and straight, celebrity and commoner in order to make the club sing and rumors fly.

The infamous disco breathed life into bohemian society for a brief moment in time in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s before it lost its luster in an Icarus-like plunge from grace. Studio 54’s mystique was, and still is, unparalleled. Many say that no one will ever come close to recreating the magic that was Studio 54. I was just a wee sprite during the dog days of disco, but the era is particularly poignant for me because I feel it speaks volumes about our country’s rampant obsession with excess.  We are a young country that sometimes acts like a spoiled child with our constant aspiration for more. Studio 54 is a good lesson in the fact that the pursuit of excess often leads to a fiery fall.

I cannot help but draw a parallel to our current economic crisis and the factors leading up to it. Luxury is not an altogether sustainable concept, although we can enjoy it in moderation now and again. The luxury displayed in this post is meant as a whimsical interpretation of the perils of excess. The food resembles drugs that were taken during the disco days, albeit in a much safer form factor. If you must have pills and needles, why not make them from things like pomegranate seeds and pea puree instead? It’s safer, more sustainable, and I daresay more delicious.

I presented all of the food for this feast using non-traditional serveware.  I gave a lot of thought to the party as a whole, and I decided I wanted to foster an intimate, cavalier approach to both the food and guest interactions. By forcing people to use their hands or get close to the food in other ways, I was able to disarm them and thus set a thought-provoking tone for the meal.

During the kiss kiss/can I get you a glass of wine/oh my god I love your outfit portion of the evening, I presented my lovelies with a mozzarella balloon amuse bouche. I will go into greater detail about how to make mozzarella balloons in a full-feature post, but suffice it to say they are one of the best uses of cheese curd I can possibly imagine. I filled these with foam made from tomato water and served them on a bed of red basil and pea shoots.

Anyone lucky enough to gain entrance into Studio 54 will undoubtedly remember the club’s logo, The Man in the Moon (with Cocaine Spoon). It was a piece of movable art- essentially a giant moon and animated spoon made to careen into one another throughout the night. It was not mechanized; rather, two employees were stationed under the moon and spoon whose sole job was to move the iconic artwork via rope and pulley.

Foie Gras Powder- the reserve stash

I knew I needed to represent the famous logo, so I chose to do it with a piece of culinary art.  I made a bi-layered gelee of watermelon and sauternes then cut it into moon shapes. For the spoons, I dehydrated pears sliced in spoon shapes.

The piece de résistance of the dish, however, is the foie gras powder. It is essentially rendered foie gras that I powdered using a molecular gastronomy technique. It is sofa-king good, each of my six guests were veritably licking it off the mirror on which I served it. I had to bring out backup foie powder just to appease everyone’s craving.

Throughout the meal, diners had the option to take an inter- ‘lude consisting of red pills (pomegranate seeds), green pills (chardonnay grapes) or blue pills (corinth grapes).  By the end of the meal, the pills were gone, if this gives you any indication as to what a raucous bunch I hosted.

Lest anyone need to satisfy their pyromaniacal tendencies or soothe an oral fixation, I provided “cigarettes” and “matches”- both edible. The cigarettes are a Turkish delight called borek I discovered while researching for this post. Mine consist of feta and pea vines rolled in phyllo and they are immeasurably good in their simplicity. They certainly sated my desire to put something long and slender into my mouth- perhaps the smokers amongst you will give them a go.

I fashioned the matches from mandolined potatoes dipped in crème fraiche and paprika. While they may not be lighting any real fires anytime soon, they certainly sent tantalizing sparks to my tastebuds.

The intermezzo consisted of pea and mint puree served heroin chic. Guests were invited to go back for seconds by plunging their syringes into the bowl of a candlelit large spoon filled with puree.

In keeping with heady decadence, we decided to have dessert before the main course. I created blancmange pyramids of bicerin chocolate, cardamom and gianduja, presented them on oversized knives and dappled them with edible 14 karat gold. They left us piqued to the point of toe-clenching and knife-licking, but alas- the final course saved the day.

Since I had to render a ton of fat to make my foie gras powder, I also needed to find a use for all that luscious foie. I elected to get crazy-lavish and make gravy with it, and when I think of gravy, it’s only natural that I also think of poutine. The brilliant tie-in with poutine and Studio 54 is that happy revelers would pour out of the club at sunrise starving for breakfast and they’d find themselves at diners ordering what they referred to as “disco fries”- aka poutine. This little factoid is so awesometastic I had to include poutine on my menu, no? I bedazzled it with foie gravy and used Okinawan purple sweet potatoes for the fries.

After dinner, we slipped on our dancing shoes and did the Hustle to Patrick’s expertly-chosen Studio 54-era playlist (he is the only guest among us who had actually been to the real Studio 54 in its heyday).  We also climbed on the bubble chair, got super silly with slang flashcards and exhibited budding ninja skills with Samurai practice swords.  Indeed, it was a night to remember, and since they weren’t real drugs, we feel fabulous enough today to do the whole thing again tonight.  The moral of today’s tale? Don’t do drugs, do disco (and if you want luxury, eat it- it’ll cost you a lot less than a mortgage you can’t afford or a staggering loss of brain cells).

There is just no mistaking this alligator sweater and legwarmers feeling in the air. It’s autumn through and through, and for those of us who missed out on summer proper, it isn’t exactly a welcome shift. Nonetheless, it’s important to make limoncello when life gives you lemons, so I’m going to plunge Hunter Wellies-first into a cauldron-sized frenzy of soup-making. This bisque in particular showcases the delights of harvest season- successfully marrying potatoes, artichokes, leeks and carrots. Toss in a little bacon binding and some tarragon for flair, and you’ve got a soup you’d be proud to introduce to your mama but you also want to feel up in the back seat of your Corvair.

The ingredients are rustic. I’m kind of tossing around the back-to-the-basics approach this week. The way they’re combined, however, is anything but. I know, I know, I wax lyrical about the endless capabilities of sous vide entirely too much, but I haven’t had much of a chance to tell you about sous vide and soup. Sous vide and soup were meant to meet on EHarmony, have babies, and make sloshy love together for the rest of their lives. It’s a perfect way to commingle flavors over a long period of time without “grandma-ing” the vegetables beyond recognition. It’s also incredibly easy to simply toss everything in a bag and walk away while the wonder of water works its witchy ways. It is important to choose ingredients that are best cooked at the same temperature; for example root vegetables with other root vegetables. Raw onions and garlic do not come out so well sous vide, so I always sauté them first or add homemade garlic/onion powder instead. In this case I sautéed the leeks with the bacon, before adding them both to the bag.

Recent readers will know I recently knocked into an at-home molecular gastronomy kit and I’ve been spherifying up a storm. What the hell does that mean? Basically it’s the fine art of turning something that is typically liquid into a ball that is taut on the exterior but still remains liquid inside. It’s done with a precise combination of two odorless, flavorless compounds- sodium alginate and calcium chloride (yes, gastronomists, it can be done other ways, but for the sake of simplification, bear with me). Carrot spheres are like great gushes of carnal lust- vulnerable, quivering until they give way and burst in one crashing, ecstatic instant. They are the perfect complement to this soup because texturally they add lightness and the sweet, cool mouthfeel is like running through damp grass on a hot day.

If you are really interested in spherification you can read up on the subject as well as gain access to a grip of recipes in this somewhat technical document. The basics are these: juice your carrots. Weigh the juice and add in .5% sodium alginate whilst whipping madly with an immersion blender. Let the bubbles settle and the juice thicken a bit in the refrigerator while you make the calcium chloride bath, which is one liter of water per 6.5 grams of calcium chloride. You can then drop the carrot juice into the bath using a syringe, a dropper, or a handy dandy pipette that drops in nearly a hundred at a time. Scoop them out after about 30 seconds using a slotted spoon, and rinse in a cold water bath. I experimented a bit with making both caviar-sized and gnocchi-sized balls, which made for good contrast in the ratio of soup to carrot. They are fairly heat-resistant, though I kind of buffered them from the hot soup by adding a layer of crème fraiche. As a study in temperature, texture and flavor, this dish succeeds mightily. It has the added benefit of taking advantage of local bounty, albeit with a modernist flair.

Sous Vide Potato Leek Artichoke Soup

3 hours, start to finish

• 1 artichoke, trimmed of leaves, choke removed ( I use a melon baller for this)
• 1 leek- white only, sliced into 1/4” rounds
• 8 oz bacon, roughly chopped
• 2 lb new potatoes
• 2 c chicken stock (frozen is easier to seal in bag)
• ¾ c heavy cream (frozen is easier to seal in bag)
• 2 sprigs fresh tarragon
• Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat sous vide bath to 185° F. Fry the bacon in a medium skillet until fat renders. Add the leek and sauté for 4 minutes, stirring occasionally. Prepare a large, food-safe vacuum sealing bag and add all ingredients except tarragon and pepper. Seal the bag and immerse it in the water bath for 2-3 hours. Remove from water bath and puree in blender along with tarragon and pepper. Serve with a dollop of crème fraiche and carrot caviar.

I went to the market today in search of duck and came home with an eye of beef round with which to make bresaola. Yes, bresaola. The Italian cured meat. Yes, it takes more than a month to make. Yes, there are bacterial dangers. Yes, I will have to convert my old wine fridge to the tune of some extra cashola for humidifiers, temperature controllers and fans.  Yes, I am singlemindedly obsessed. But hey, at least I remembered the duck breast!

After I pored over bresaola recipes and whiled away the afternoon, I realized I needed to do something with my duck. Thank god for local produce and springtime! This recipe practically made itself.  I tossed salted, peppered and garlic powdered breasts into the sous vide at 140° for two hours while I threw together the rest of the plate.  The cherries have begun to bless us with their sanguine flesh here in Washington (can you believe it?) and what a season it promises to be. I bought a pricy pound but ate half of them on the way home they were so shazaam succulent.  I made a simple sauce from what I had left, simmering them with some vino dolce, adding a touch of broth, and finishing with freshly shelled peas just before I plated the dish. 

If you’re as big a fan of duck as I am, you’ll probably agree that there is no better accompaniment than potatoes fried in the rendered duck fat.  These fries were especially unctuous because I added some caramelized onions to the fat as well, making for a side dish robust enough to stand up to the duck.  Both the duck and the fries benefit hugely from the addition of my favorite thing on earth. NO, I didn’t toss a pair of Manolo Blahniks into the fryer, people, jeesh! I’m talking about SALT, not SHOES, but you’re right, maybe we’ll call them neck and neck vying for the “number one favorite thing” position in my heart.  And yes, I know I have the best baby on earth, Bentley Danger, but he doesn’t count because he’s a person not a thing. Eeenyways, back to adding shoes to duck and fries. I mean salt. 

You probably know by now that I love to make salt myself.  You may also know that my salt obsession was borne from my husband’s annoyance with me insisting on getting a new pair of shoes in every country we visit. I figured he’d be more amenable to salt instead, because it’s lighter on the luggage and on the pocketbook, which I think was his real beef.  I used several different salts in the making of this dish because different salts perform differently in different applications.  For the rapid brine (only rapid because I didn’t leave myself enough time) of the breast, I used plain old kosher salt. For the salt rub on the breasts in the sous vide bath I used Portugese flor de Sal from Marx Foods.  I tossed the fries with a bit of my own salt since I love it as a finishing salt on something hot for the way it melts.  I even added a little Maldon salt to the top of the cherry sauce since the little pyramids look so lovely and it helps balance the sweet flavor. 

Who knew you could employ four salts in one meal and truly justify different uses for all? I’m extra saline-sensitive right now because I’m hosting a salt-tasting soiree soon wherein my guests will be subject to a blind tasting of the salts of the world.  Do you have a favorite salt? One you can’t live without that is your go-to kitchen staple? If so let me know in the comments section of this post. I want to be sure to have a varied representation and not miss anyone’s nearest and dearest.