A Lady With Her Hackles Up
Schuyler passed around glasses of Evan Willams Single Barrel bourbon, neat. As he went around the room with his drinks tray, he was smiling. Then, he got to Terry and the smile went the way of the Dodo. Up here in the hills we love women who smile, and we're smart enough to know that when they're scowling to beat the band there's something wrong and we'd better watch out. Maybe 'cause all our ladies know how to shoot and hit their mark.
Schuyler, for whom the phrase 'gentleman farmer' was invented, tactfully asked her what was wrong. Well, it seems that she had been watching the news shows, as we all do so assiduously, and had become incensed by Bill Frist, he of the death-mask-like facial features; that famously distasteful Senate majority leader with the face of an evil slug. Sorry, Terry just doesn't have the stomach for cheesy brown-nosers, cohorts of the Bush-Cheney cabal.
First, Do No Harm
Frist apparently forgot that phrase, Terry told us. On the news show he was railing against "entitlements." That is, he was bitching about having to take care of the poor, the infirm, the aged and helpless: exactly what doctors are supposed to do. He forgot, Terry said, that was our responsibility as human beings. But no, Frist was more concerned about tax cuts for the filthy rich.
Skew the Facts
Asked about the budget surplus Bush inherited, he acted as if it was not the Republicans' fault that it had disappeared. He blamed it on Iraq. What infuriated Terry was his obfuscation; Iraq was not a declared war, it was an invasion of choice, worse: it was an invasion based on lies. Frist, of course, did not speak to that point, trying instead to blame it on the poor, the infirm, the aged, the disabled; again, all those Terry said, it was our duty to care for.
Snippy as an angry female dog, he avowed that he was not guilty of doing anything wrong in dumping all his stock in his family's hospital venture, even though it is apparent he's Martha Stewarting the facts. But, what really got Terry's goat (sorry for the unforgivable play on words: Terry and Art, her husband, have the goat-cheese farm down the road from us) was Frist's prevaricating over his long distance diagnosis of Terry Schiavo as a woman with a viable future; fiercely announcing to the world that she was not in an irreversible vegetative state. I don't know about you, but I sure wouldn't want to be diagnosed by a female dog a thousand miles away and who had never, ever, seen me as a patient. That would be as asinine as trebucheting your way into a woman's private health care matters, wouldn't it, Terry asked?
The Dinner Gong: Just In Time To Save Terry From Imploding
We were glad that dinner was ready because Terry's anger did need to be assuaged by an unforgettable dinner. Charlotte and Beatrix, with a bit of help from Max, were up to the challenge, hoping to bring a smile to Terry's face.
Charlotte prepared exquisite Crab Cakes, spicy with Dijon mustard and cayenne pepper. She served them on thin slices of great baguettes. She served a nicely chilled Geyser Peak Sauvignon Blanc, which with its grassy flavors, paired beautifully with the herbs in the crab cakes.
To keep our Terry smiling, the next course was one of her favorites, Farfalle Pasta Consommé with Chicken Livers. Try this sometime, even if you think you don't like chicken livers. The consommé is delicious, especially when paired with a dry sherry, Domecq's La Ina Dry Fino Sherry.
Beatrix and Charlotte worked together on our next course, an impeccable Lobster with Smoked Chèvre (from Art and Terry's farm.) They roasted a vast assortment of vegetables, including one of our favorite dishes, garlic roasted to buttery perfection. As you know by now, we don't believe in torturing animals here on our farms and ranches, and the lobsters are humanely killed before cooking. The ladies said our battery of Wüstof Trident chefs' knives surely made their life in the kitchen a breeze.
Beatrix came up with the idea for our meat course, Florentine Pot Roast. She used rump roasts, and of course needed several very large, deep roasting pans, such as the extra-large roasting pans from Magnalite that we have a collection of. We are trying to locate some more and will let you know when we have been successful in finding them. Their depth and heavy lids allow the steam to keep the beef very moist and very tender. On the large serving platters, Charlotte and Beatrix placed plenty of the superb onions, carrots, mushrooms and potatoes they had cooked in with the roast. The wine they selected to serve us was a Viticchio Chianti Classico Riserva, delicious, rich and perfect for the roast.
Smiling now, Terry said she couldn't wait to see what Charlotte and Beatrix had prepared for our dessert. It turned out to be an Almond Tart with Vanilla Custard with a perfect, flaky pastry that, accompanied by a delicious dessert sherry, Alvear's Montilla-Moriles Solera 1927 Pedro Ximénez was the perfect end to a flawless meal. This sherry is fruity, buttery, sweet, and perfect for dessert.
Winding Down
With Terry in a much better frame of mind, we returned to the great room, sat down with the teenagers, and enjoyed our after-dinner coffee.
We didn't bring up the subject of Bill Frist, but we did, each of us, think about the evil at the core of his beliefs, strategies, and aspirations. To us, he looks just as shady and lacking in compassion as does George Bush and his coterie of devils.
Max's homemade mix of coffee beans always delights, and gets everybody in a good mood, ready to head for home.
Summary:
Senate majority leader Bill Frist reminded Terry of Doctor Death, evil to the core, and as compassionate as a rock, or a Bush. He didn't care about Terry Schiavo, he didn't care about the shareholders in his families hospital conglomerate, and he doesn't care about over-bloated deficit. Seems like this guy, like Bush, only cares about Frist. Let's keep him in Tennessee, where he belongs, that is, if he has to belong somewhere.
