Grilled Halibut with Sauvignon Blanc (Pascal Jolivet Attitude, 2013)
I landed at Logan Airport in Boston for one of my favorite weeks of the year. I had several entertaining gigs lined up but the main purpose of my visit was to visit my close Friend Bethany Carver. She and I met when we were 18 and spending a summer in Newport R.I. We were poor; we reached between the couch cushions for coins so we could share a glass of wine and a shrimp each. When the tourist season picked up and the tips rolled in, we spent most of our cash on food and drinks.
She and her husband had a lovely house on Cape Cod and I was given the task of preparing dinner for eight. It was something I requested to do because the kitchen looked out on Cape Cod Bay and the seafood was fresh. I would have a stellar view and friends with which to share good food and wine. After a night spent drinking cocktails on the deck as we inhaled the brackish aromas coming off the bay, I woke up the next day, inspired to make dinner.
“Ready to walk to the dock?” Bethany asked.
“We should drive because I have to stop off and get the wine to go with the Halibut. I’m pouring a Sauvignon Blanc from the Loire Valley. Pascal Jolivet 2013. I’m making the fish with a light lemony pesto because I figure we need light after our bacchanalian time last night.”
“Can I contribute a side-dish?” Bethany asked.
“I’m counting on it. Anything specific in mind?”
“I have fresh tomatoes and corn from my garden deck in Dover. Nothing fancy just fresh.”
“Sounds magnificent. Your kitchen will be easy to clean because I’m making the halibut filets on the grill and I’m making the pesto this afternoon that I’ll have it sitting in the fridge.”
The fish store was located on the dock and by the time we arrived, they had just cleaned their morning catch. We ended up with some shrimp for old time sake and decided to offer shrimp cocktail as an appetizer. We arrived back at the house on the bay and Bethany’s husband Johnny with her 10-year old daughter Ming were setting up croquet on the front lawn.
“Are you living like the rich and famous now?”
“I know croquet seems a bit snobbish but we think it’s ironic and pretty fun,” Johnny said as he pushed the wickets into the ground.
“If you can get the grill started, it’d be great. That’s all I’m going to ask of you and then you can get back to your lawn games.” I chuckled.
The grill grate was made specifically for cooking fish so all I needed was a brush of olive oil to prevent sticking. It was one of the easiest dinner parties I had ever planned. It helped that Bethany was doing the sides and that the atmosphere was chill. I set the outdoor table using festive plastic plates that Bethany had for outdoor dining. The wine glasses were not plastic because although the wine was a bargain at $20 per bottle, I insisted. Bethany had no problem with it even if one or two broke. After everyone arrived and they had enjoyed shrimp cocktail, I put the 8 oz. filets on the grill. The flaky white fish took less than 20 minutes to cook. I spooned some fresh pesto on top and garnished each plate with a lemon wedge, a couple of edible flowers and a sprig of parsley.
“Dinner is served. The wine is a Sauvignon Blanc from the Loire Valley, Pascal Jolivet Attitude. I didn’t have to think twice about the pairing. Sauvignon Blanc is popular these days, which I think is for good reason. It’s food friendly and goes great with all types of seafood.”
“The wine brings out the freshness of the basil and doesn’t compete with the mild fish. I was thinking a chardonnay would go better but I was wrong. Great pairing Syl,” Johnny said.
“I didn’t want to tell you this but I have two bottles of this exact wine on my rack. It’s one of my favorites. I can’t get enough of the fruity nuances – lime, grapefruit, green apple and so on. You’re quiet over there. Any thoughts Brian?” Bethany asked our friend who owned a small craft liquor distillery.
“You know I’m not a wine guy Sylvia. I could lie and talk about the bouquet or the beautiful color but you’re too nice to blow smoke up your ass. I specialize in liquor so I think my taste buds are spent when it comes to wine.”
“I’ll forgive you. We’re all walking to the scoop shop for dessert. You can pay for my cone and we’ll call it even.” I joked.
Bethany and I cleared the table as the others picked up their mallets. We agreed that food tasted better among good friends. We recounted our days of poverty with only enough money to share a glass of wine. The food tasted just as good then as it did now and I looked forward to Cape Cod next summer.
