Aguibal Manzanilla

Last night, as I was making my famous huckleberry vinaigrette, I realized that I was out of canola oil. Canola is my preferred oil because it is relatively heart healthy and, more importantly, it is nearly flavorless. In a pinch, I had to make the call between a bottle of Aguibal olive oil or a tiny bottle of olive oil that was smuggled back from Tuscany for me. I went with the Aguibal.

Aguibal is an olive oil made exclusively from Manzanilla olives (my favorite). The olives are hand picked, pressed, and bottled without any processing, filtering, or chemicals. The result is an oil that has a very mild aroma and tastes initially very "green." A few seconds later, your mouth is coated with a warm, "peppered endive" flavor. This is a "big" olive oil.

The rest of my salad was comprised of spinach, grilled chicken, red grapes, walnuts and Harbourne cheese (thank you again, Cowgirl). To compensate for the peppery finish in the Aguibal, I used the Harbourne cheese instead of a bolder blue and opted not to finish the salad with fresh ground pepper. It worked brilliantly. Typically this dish comes off a bit sweet, but the addition of the Aguibal added a depth, richness and edge to the dish.

Cowgirl Creamery

If you haven't yet been, you need to run directly to Cowgirl Creamery. They have the most interesting selection of cheeses I have found in the D.C. area. The U-shaped cheese counter is separated by animal (cow, sheep, goat) and they let you sample everything before you buy. Separate coolers house artisanal butters, chevre, creme fraiche, etc. as well as cheese accompaniments like olives, etc. The front of the store also offers wines, fruit spreads, bread and prepared sandwiches but the main attraction is the cheese.

On this trip, I picked up some of their St. Pat, a hunk of Vermont Shepherd, some Harbourne Blue, a bit of Sottocenere and a bit of what they call "Cabrales Butter."

St. Pat is a cheese they make each spring. It is a whole milk cheese wrapped in stinging nettles. Unlike my other favorite nettle cheese, Taylor Farms Stinging Nettle Gouda, here the nettles are not incorporated in the cheese, but used to wrap the cheese before aging. The leaves imbue the cheese with a fresh, herbal perfume.

The Vermont Shepherd is an old favorite from our days on the "cheese trail" each fall in Vermont. This is a natural rind sheep's milk cheese that is made in the summer, when the ewes have been grazing on fresh grasses and wild herbs. It is light, earthy and leaves a lingering nutty aftertaste.

Harbourne is a blue goat's milk cheese from Neal's Yard Dairy. It is a firm blue cheese (won't crumble easily, but also won't melt at room temperature) whose most appealing trait (in my opinion) is that it is light and almost sweet. This is a rich blue cheese without the "cotton mouth" effect.

Sottocenere is a sweet cow's milk cheese from the Venetto that is infused with black truffles. It is slightly salty and incredibly rich. When we got home, Kate made this into a sinfully rich macaroni & cheese.

"Cabrales Butter" is a 50/50 mix of cabrales cheese and butter. I have yet to try it, but it sounded too good to pass up. It is currently in my freezer and I plan to slice thin disks of it to dress tenderloins the next time I fire up the grill.

Be prepared for sticker shock - many cheeses are over $30 per pound - but many of these cheeses are not available anywhere else in the area, at any price.

Blog 2.0

Many of you have noticed a precipitous decline in my blogging of late.

While I would like to blame the drop in output on the loss of my culinary wing man to prenatal dietary restrictions, that is only part of the story. A sudden onslaught of fiscal responsibility associated with the dual responsibilities of furnishing a nursery and funding my chocolate lab's expensive chemotherapy habit also played a role.

To be honest, the real reason is that I feel like this blog strayed too far from its intended purpose. I began this effort hoping to chronicle my culinary adventures. What I hadn't planned on was that it would escalate into a game of gastronomic oneupsmanship. This well-intentioned blog devolved into a game of "trophy dining" - a hedonistic parade of increasingly famous, lavish, and expensive restaurants.

With hat in hand, I am now humbly recommitting these pages to their original purpose - the celebration of culinary delights: The first fiddle heads of spring; that bottle of wine you forgot you had in the cellar; that amazing cheese you decided to try against your best hygienic judgement. These are the great moments in gastronomy - and they exist independent of Michelin stars, celebrity chefs, 12-course tasting menus and checks that surpass the monthly rent on your average single family home.