Halibut, Paved with Herbs

Growing up, I never really understood why eating fish on Fridays during Lent was a sacrifice. After all, some of my favorite meals were meatless. I would take my Dad's linguine with clam sauce or salmon croquettes over a petite filet any day of the week.

However, about four years ago, while Peter and I were going through our first Lent together, I came to understand that for some, a day without meat can be a challenge. See, I am married to the ultimate carnivore and the ultimate fish snob. He prefers when dinner is bestial. And if the animal on his plate was once a swimmer, he likes it best when his skiff and line were its predator. So Lenten fish Fridays in the land locked city of Naperville have never come with much anticipation.

In the great Midwest, land of beef and butchers, dinner tends to come au jus. This week alone, I entertained requests for steak, stuffed pork chops and short ribs, which were each consumed with an eager eye and a salivating mouth.

But yesterday, when my response to Peter's 4:00 PM text, asking 'what's for dinner,' was 'halibut,' I didn't receive an enthusiastically hungry response. I wasn't about to let it defeat me though. I was determined to create an entree that might actually be requested outside of the Friday in Lent window.

I drew on inspiration from the fish that was served by the Fairmont on our wedding day, Halibut with an Herb Pave. I roasted it with a molded, herb and bread crumb crust until it was just done. 

It was well received, and as always, Peter and I donned our stripes as VIPs of the clean plate club.

But naturally, as soon as I mentioned that I wanted to try making pulled pork tamales on Sunday night, the carnivore's thoughts went straight back to swine.

In other Lenten news, I've gone six days without an alcoholic beverage and without looking at a recipe. I'm actually rethinking the whole wine helps me cook better theory. Now I'm about to test if a wineless Friday helps my long Saturday runs. Ready, set, GO!

Lo.

Halibut with an Herb Pave

2 5-ounce pieces of halibut
Juice of one lemon
1 tablespoon olive oil, plus a drizzle of it for the fish
1/2 cup homemade bread crumbs
2 tablespoons parsley chopped
2 tablespoons tarragon chopped
1 tablespoon shallot chopped
Salt, pepper

Preheat oven to 370 degrees and prepare baking pan with a sheet of parchment paper.

Season fish with a drizzle of olive oil, salt and pepper and place on parchment paper.

In a blender, combine bread crumbs, herbs, shallot, salt and pepper. Pulse until crumbs are very fine. Remove from blender and stir in lemon juice and olive oil. Using your hands, mold the herb mixture onto the top of each piece of fish, forming a 1/2 inch layer. (This layer keeps the fish moist and helps it cook evenly.) Roast the fish at 370 degrees for 10-12 minutes or until fish is just done.

Serve immediately. (And I served it with steamed red potatoes and a broccoli salad.)

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

I'm afraid to count the number of glasses of champagne I have had in Monte Carlo. Yesterday alone brought four (and that might just be an understatement.)

Apparently, being the honeymooners at the hotel grants you some level of celebrity status. Even though I'm not that familiar with my name, everyone at the Fairmont seems to know it. Meeeesus Schoolt. Oh, that's me. We have now received not one, but two Tattinger Champagne bottles in fancy ice buckets. The hotel manager wanted to take our photo at dinner, frame it and give it to us as a memento. We got turn down service every night. And they even brought me extra trail mix at the pool. 

Being a honeymooner only gets you so far in Monte Carlo though. The city is meant not only for the somewhat famous, but for the uber wealthy. It is tres, tres cher! The teeny, tiny nation, only .75 square miles big, has the highest per capita income, there are more Lamborghinis on the streets of Monaco than there are soldiers in their army (a mere 80 guards), the starting price on the mega yachts docked in Monaco's harbor is about $100 million, and the minimums at the Casino aren't $5, they're 50 Euro. 

Given our fleeting celebrity and desire to famously live up our honeymoon, but without the financial means to do it, we remembered a little something that we had - an incentive from the Fairmont Pittsburgh for a well done wedding reception. They gave us a gift card valued at a small percentage of what was spent on the wedding - a prize, that honestly should have gone to my parents, but instead went to us. 

This was our golden ticket yesterday to offset the Monaco prices. It enabled two amazing massages at the beautiful spa at the Fairmont. A lovely lunch by the pool. Postcard writing with champagne cocktails. And finally, a dinner at the hotel's more "gastronomique" restaurant, L'Argentin. We started with a split appetizer of cream of pea soup with crab ravioli, then Peter had the cote de boeuf and I had the salt crusted sea bass. 

The sites and sounds of Monaco were free more or less, so we took full advantage of them in the afternoon. We toured Prince Albert's palace, le jardin exotique, la Poste (interesting to see because their stamps are rarities. We bought some of the latest stamps which were perfect for me - Princess Grace winning her Oscar!) and an absolutely amazing aquarium and oceanographic museum. (Peter was in heaven ... and I was too, when I saw that there was a special exhibit at the museum about Prince Albert's wedding. Gotta say, I liked my dress better.) 

Looking up at a turret on Prince Albert's Palace. 

The renegade Italian dressed as a monk who founded the Principality of Monaco.

Lots of little Omega Supremes at the Aquarium

The logo for the Oceanographic Institute looks oddly similar to the Starbucks logo.

Had to get some of that for later!

After dinner we ventured off the Fairmont's property to try our luck at the Casino. It is a stunning piece of architecture, built at the beginning of the 20th century as a consolation prize for Monaco losing half of its land mass to France. The Casino accounts for 5% of the GDP of the minute country. The minimums for the tables are steep, and its clientele even steeper. Although dressed for the part, we were out of place. In hopes of winning it big and buying one of the amazing condos I saw today, I put my money on my lacrosse number - 7. And just as she did time and time again on the field, Meredith beat me. 27 won, my Euros were gone, and Peter and I headed back to the hotel. 

Peter and I most likely will never know the level of wealth that exists in Monaco, and our honeymooner fame will fade as fast as our wedding went by, but as long as there is champagne, dreams of fun adventures ahead, and a gift card or two in the future, I think we'll be living as high off the hog as all the black tie clad hommes in the Salons Privees.

And to Mom and Dad - thank you not only for throwing the wedding of a lifetime, thank you for doing it at the Fairmont and passing along that gift card to the honeymooners. 

Lo.  

The Honeymoon Look

We were asking people to take photos of us left and right last night - who wouldn't? The sun was setting, we had beautiful cocktail after beautiful cocktail, we were dressed up, and we were at a pretty magical place. Each photographer asked, and what brings you here, as if he or she already knew.
It's our honeymoon. We just got married.
They would reply, I knew it! They just have that look - you know? 

That look last night was somewhere in between delirium and pure delight, but I guess it looked good. And it was made possible by a serious (I now have towels creases all over my face) cat nap at the pool in the afternoon, followed by a rejuvinating jog on the treadmill, then the popping of some comped champagne.

Earlier in the never-ending day/night/whatever you call the hours on the plane, we never got asked if it was our honeymoon. We didn't have the look I guess. In fact, looking at us, you might have only seen me, because Peter was entirely covered in a red blanket for most of the time.

We boarded the plane from Pittburgh to Paris at 6:00 PM on Sunday and found our 35 B and C seats next to a friendly Texan and the bathroom.

Optimistic about our destination and high on the wedding weekend, we didn't over analyze our positioning, settled in and concentrated on preparing for our six-hour nap. A couple hours into it though, post delayed plane food service, the bathroom line became quite a grievance, the Texan went from friendly, to the heaviest mouth breather and most annoying sniffler on the planet, and the Euros on the plane went from stinky to stanky. All of this lead Peter to drape a red blanket over his head and body, while I fell victim to a right leg that perpetually kept falling asleep, waking up, cramping, and then doing it all over again. People kept mistaking Peter's red blob form for a leaning post next to the bathroom, and each time someone put their hands on Peter's head, he would take off the blanket wrap and give them a look that crossed all language barriers. Our combined look was not so hot as we made our final descent into Paris.

After a coffee and a croisant in Charles de Gaule, we started to get that honeymooner look back I guess, and by the time we hit the Budget counter in Nice, we apparently had it as they upgraded our standard Renault to a Beemer.

We hit Monte Carlo around 1:30 PM France time on Monday. We spent the afternoon on the rooftop pool, the evening at one of the most beautiful restaurants I've ever been to, and the night walking around Monte Carlo. Dressed in, what else, but the color of money, we struck many poses and I pretended I was in a movie a couple times. Amazed at the beauty and bounty that continues to come our way, our big smiles said it all - we were very happy honeymooners.

Lo.

PS - Peter and I will be Fairmont loyalists for the rest of our lives. The Tattinger champagne in our room was over the top!