Food crack, porn and ....

    I was thinking about the last post on First Night and it dawned on me that it needed a prologue.That, began several days before, when I went to a food and wine show.Want to talk about raising your heart rate and getting your juices flowing? Talk about food crack! Don't get me wrong, I was amped about the First Night, but like a junkie, I needed a fix and I needed it right then. So off to the Big City I went, with two former employees, who are hard core foodies in their own right. After arriving at our destination, we ran like lovers into the waiting arms of Eros. Other eager supplicants merged around us, whispers of the awaiting pleasures circulated. Pointing here and there. Murmuring hints of the joys awaiting. Knowing looks from those that had indulged.
   Before us lay a virtual panopoly of sights, smells, liquids, colors and tastes.Our mouths salivated, fingers tingled, pupils dilated, bodies shook in anticipation.Where to begin? What to to do first? How to start? Like giddy virgins, we stood and looked at what was before us, a little overwhelmed at the prospect, but definitely eager to be educated. Perhaps a taste of that finely aged Bourbon or exquisitely seductive Mescal would take the edge off and help us relax into the zone. The tables of bottles and vintages rimmed the room and snaked thru the center, almost in an effort to engage and ensnare us. This would take a plan of action. Too much, too soon and all would be lost. Too little and......well,screw it, nothing ventured, nothing gained. To be among others who loved what they did, made what they loved, indulged in their passions.We were home.
   A heady, smoky Scotch beckoned us almost immediately, golden, rich, smooth as silk, its very scent whispering deep woods and heathery fields. The hickory wafted gently into the nose. The tongue holding onto it like a whore in an alley. It was hard to let it go. But it was far too early for swallowing, so it was spit out and washed away with clear, cleansing water.We wanted to be led gently, to be educated, to make it last as long as possible.We wanted lubricants, and kisses and soft words of encouragement. There came next the clear inviting fluids of  Tequila silvery, golden, amber; Gins with their herbaceous complexities, and pristine Vodkas in all their glory and diverse infusions. And oh, the Rums.......We sank into the rhythms of the Caribbean, the flavors undulating to the music of steel drums in our heads. Small batch, mountain crafted, high distillery Whiskeys....This could be very bad......or unimaginably good...Time to breathe, pull it back, take it slower and savor the moment.Turn away from the come hither glances.
  Assailed by a vision of the sea, we shyly approached a table laden with thumb nail sized lumps of jumbo crab, mounds of cold water lobster meat, Langostines and prawns the length of a mans hand, head intact, I felt a sensation of warmth growing deep and low. My desire heightened. I am a diagnosed nymphomaniac for the glory that is the ocean. "Go ahead, take one, if you think you can handle it, I'll give you all you want". I locked eyes with him, proceeded to peel the shell off, took the head gingerly in my mouth, and gently removed it without damage and laid it aside. I closed my eyes for a moment as the firm flesh lay on my tongue, it's saltiness and sweetness, almost pulsating and alive. When I opened them, he looked at me with satisfaction, and said come back, we'll talk more.TALK!!! TALK?????......DO it again, damn it!!!!!!! But no, I was being dragged away before I was left a quivering mass,
  We came upon an alluring plate of  Iowa grown, free range pork. Heirloom breeds of pure stock that have tremendous quality.The slow braised ribs gave up the meat like willing brides and we gloried at their submission.It fell apart at a touch. Our fingers, moist with their juices, dove into our mouths to be sucked clean. Sorry, did you really think a fork is the way to go? NEVER!! This is a full body contact sport. The taste, the texture, the sublimeness.
  Duck, Quail, Venison, the bounty of the forests, pulled us deeper and deeper, enchanting, inviting, captivating. Delicate bites, little tastes of heaven. Impossible to resist and lovingly consumed with delight. The path then winding down into the valleys. And oh, the New Zealand Spring Lambs! Beautifully Frenched racks, like succulent lollipops of meat, tasting of the sweet grasses they were fed on.The exquisite Shanks, thick as well muscled forearm, dripping with bewitching earthy juices. The incredible pink blush of free range Veal, with its incomparable flavor so lovingly done to a turn.
  My eyes rested on a small inviting table of Saki.Charming aqua and iridescent bottles of heaven. I had to.I needed to. The cold liquid woke my senses like a thunderbolt. This I could not let go of. The heat descended into my body like a lovers kiss. I felt myself, as if wrapped in a silk kimono, performing a ritual, I wanted to warm it gently and release its perfume, pour it into porcelain cups.
  We had to stop, to breathe, to assimilate, to calm ourselves... in order to go forward..........
Great vintages lay spread out before us. Huge reds, mind blowing in their intensity, enticing Pinots and Syrahs, Malbecs and more. Clear, shimmery whites cloaked in green and amber, oaked and unoaked, sweet and dry, even sparkling. Leather, lace, tobacco, buttery, grassy, fruity, herby, heady, delicate. Around the world in a nano second. Synapses on full fire. Senses approaching overload but still in check.The warm glow of foreplay leading to full promise coming on.
  I turned, as if touched by a guiding hand, to feast my eyes on pristine, glistening freshly opened oysters. They lay beckoning me on piles of crushed ice, and I stood transfixed. My hand timidly reached out to cup one and  my head lay back to receive the ice cold slippery meat. I held it quietly in my mouth absorbing the flavor, the texture,the whole encompassing sensation.and then let it slip down my throat. An involuntary shudder coursed thru my body. Believe me when I say, it was not in revulsion. Another  and another and another. I swayed. I felt possessed. Another plane of ecstasy was reached.
  A slab of sushi grade Tuna, the size of my thigh, almost burgundy in color, wet, gleaming and beckoning, held me in it's thrall. A small, thin slab was presented to me. So clean, so soft, so yielding, so clean, soooooo heavenly. Tiny petals of pickled ginger, laying in a dish to clean the palate, sat next, to it. Then followed gorgeous grass fed, hormone free Montana raised beef fillets. Black on the outside, blood red on the inside. Mouth watering tenderness, almost tongue crushable and alongside, Bison, fetchingly laid out for an added temptation. Fresh earthy bread to absorb the juices that were beginning to run down my chin was mandatory.We simply didn't know how much more we could take. Giddiness was setting in fast. We weren't drunk, but most definitely intoxicated on the sensations surrounding us. It was as if we had been making love for hours with brief respites to begin again and again. Being encouraged to taste more, learn more, enjoy more.
  On small toasts of hearth baked bread, simultaneously crunchy and soft, and spread as if butter, the Foie Gras terrine lay. It was exquisite. From the moment my lips touched it, felt its delicacy,and my nose breathed in its glorious scent I was transported. We each bit in gingerly, watching the other, as if afraid it would disappear when touched. It was almost too good to be true. Did we dare do try another bite? Oh hell yea!!!!! It was ambrosia. A small swallow of champagne washed it down, but not out. This had to be it. There couldn't possibly be more in this Kama Sutra book of food. Yet, as I stood there almost complete, I detected a familiar fragrance, that caused me to turn in it's direction.  And then .....there it was......the.final chapter........the one that had been so patiently waiting to lift us to the final moment.
    He stood alone, pristine in his whites, assured in his technique, master of his domain.I floated towards him, transfixed by his eyes, by his salacious mouth beckoning me on, more than willing to be taken. He cut into the beige white Foie Gras lobe with the precision of a surgeon, scored it lightly, sprinkled salt and cracked pepper over the top and deftly lifted it on a grill plate. It sizzled as it seared, in it's own natural fat, the perfume holding me as if prey in a cobras' eyes.When it had turned golden brown, he placed it on a small white plate and handed it to me. As he observed me, grinning and knowing, I lifted the gleaming morsel and held it. The anticipation of this moment was almost unbearable. My senses began to reel. The warm creaminess, the richness dissolving in delicate layers, the ultimate smoothness like no other as it came into my mouth, the sheer orgasmic pleasure my brain was experiencing. Pictures of falling back on to soft pillows, drenched in a sensuous after glow, gleaming with the joy of ultimate pleasure, a small smile of satisfaction on my lips, floated around in my head. He nodded knowingly. We were done, sated, wrapped in a blanket of exhilarating exhaustion and euphoria.
  There are those who would say I was a sensualist, that it is this trait, that makes me good at what I do.
Well, you may very well say so, I on the other hand couldn't possibly comment.

Cheffy