07/20/04’s illustrious band:

Sweaty Bovine Nature

Northwest Notes, Chapter 2

Brought to you by Brentwood Bay Lodge & Spa of beautiful, bountiful Victoria, British Columbia. That's in Canada, eh?

Yesterday, I promised to reveal what oysters, caribou, and dragons have in common. Today, the answer: all can be found in the Fine Dining Room of the BBL&S.

Our hostess for the evening of July 7 was Jessica, recent college graduate and newly minted PR director of the BBL&S. The lodge had been open for only five weeks, she explained, and since the Garden Doctor and I were VIPs, the management would be pleased to treat us to dinner and hear our feedback on the meal and service. G-Doc and I were happy to help out. Soon after arriving at the lodge, we ironed some appropriate clothing and met Jessica at a table with a perfect view of sunset over the bay and mountains.

G-Doc and I are both more likely to be found in restaurants that feature plastic trays and supersize options than in fine dining establishments, so we were gratified to learn that Jessica was in the same boat. Despite her employment, she had never had dinner at the lodge, and certainly not from Chef Brock's Menu Gastronomique. And certainly not with a different wine accompanying every course, and absolutely not with a . . . creative sommelier accompanying the wine.

The first dish proudly presented by Steven, our waiter, was the appetizer, a single fresh oyster in its shell on a bed of coarse sea salt, garnished with lemon and a sprig of . . . something. Steven waited expectantly for us to enjoy this delicacy so he could relay our appreciation to Chef Brock.

A glance around the table indicated that none of us was eager to tackle the gelatinous globs. G-Doc and I both avoid shellfish, and most other seafood, where we can. Jessica seemed equally inclined. So I took a deep breath and reached for my lemon wedge. I squeezed as much juice as possible over the oyster, then picked up a fork -- which I fervently hoped was the right fork, because we'd gotten no salad, an omission that threw off my cutlery rhythm for the rest of the meal. I speared the oyster and -- oops! -- dropped it in the salt pile. Twice. One crunchy chomp and down the hatch it went, followed, after what I hoped was a discrete interval, by a generous slug of the first wine of the evening. My companions followed suit, and we were able to send Steven back to the kitchen with a favorable report. I'm sure it was a terrific treat, if you like that sort of thing, but I'm sorry to say it was wasted on me.

Thankfully, the oyster was the most difficult thing we had to deal with for the rest of the meal. Since we were getting the VIP treatment, Chef Brock decided not to stick strictly to the Menu Gastronomique, but to send each of us a different dish for every course so we could all try a little bit of everything. Over the next two and a half hours, the three of us consumed bite-sized portions of:

• braised leg of rabbit, raspberry jus lie (a tough one for G-Doc, who has two pet bunnies)
  
• tamari-roasted black cod, Saanichton blackberry reduction
  
• seared Nass River sockeye fillet, pickled cucumber, potato reosti
  
• silver tail rockfish, braised organic leek, barley risotto
  
• wood-grilled leg of caribou, truffled mash, sweet cherry glaze
  
• a palate refreshment of fresh passionfruit sorbet
  
• seared Alaskan scallops and juan de fuca spot prawns, seasonal greens
  
• rock sole and Dungeness crab paupillette, braised fennel emulsion
  
• crown roast of rabbit, phoenix farm vegetables, blueberry jus lie
  
• hazelnut, lemon thyme and ginger crème brulee
  
• white wine-poached Anjou pear, flourless chocolate cake, red wine sabayon
  
• apple tarte tatin, maple caramel, crème anglais
  

Full yet? So were we!

But the food was only part of the fun. Chef Brock and his staff had paid at least as much attention to the presentation as to the cooking. When each new course arrived, each of us received a different-shaped white plate, huge, both canvas and frame for the art. Rectangles, squares, trapezoids, rhombuses, circles, and even a triangle drew our eyes to their centers. The entrees and sauces nestled there appeared as sculptures, each with its own banner sprig of garnish heralding its arrival. Every dish seemed to include fresh berries and herbs picked on lodge property that very day. It was a pleasure to receive each gift from the kitchen.

And the wine! As I mentioned, each course came with its own wine, and with the wine came Brian, the BBL&S sommelier, or wine steward. He wore the traditional uniform of black trousers and white shirt, topped by a bright yellow vest adorned with panda bears and bamboo trees. From a vest pocked peeked a pair of reading glasses with multicolored rims, but he never put them on. Rather than a slicked-back hairstyle, he sported a messy silver ponytail, and he always seemed to be gazing out the window.

As any good sommelier does, Brian educated us about the wines as he poured. To him, there's a story in every glass. The tale begins with the origin of the grapevines that produced each vintage, and with the name and lineage of the vintner. It progresses through growth conditions and the fermentation and bottling processes and reaches the peak of its suspense when the wine is purchased for someone's cellar.

For Brian, that's where the fun starts. The climax of the story occurs not in the drinking of the wine, it seems, but in the description of it. We expected him to tell us what scents to look for in the bouquet and what flavors to anticipate, what kind of body, what kind of finish. And we were not disappointed.

Words like lively, sassy, and melancholy didn't surprise us much. But when Brian informed us that a certain red wine had a "sweaty bovine nature," and later that a white produced a "slap of the baby dragon's tail on the finish," all three of us bit our tongues until poor Brian had disappeared back into the kitchen. Then we spent a few minutes asking each other whether he'd really just said what we thought he'd said, or whether we'd had too much already. (The sweaty bovine wine, incidentally, turned out to be the unanimous favorite.)

When the sun had set and Brian had made his final, effervescent retreat, Steven reappeared with another special VIP offering: If we liked, both chef and sommelier would autograph our menus. We accepted eagerly, of course, and mine is sitting in its folder on my desk as I write.

Fortunately, G-Doc and I ate only this single dinner in the Fine Dining Room. The experience, while grand, was a bit overwhelming. Had the meal not been complimentary, we never would have attempted it, certainly not with five or six different wines to boot. Nonetheless, we're glad to have had the adventure. And don't even get me started on the three-course gourmet breakfasts we enjoyed the following two mornings.

Today around the world: July 20 is ____.

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