Blood, Bones, Butter, Smoke & Applause
It isn’t often you stumble upon a whole lamb roasting on a spit along Peachtree Street in Atlanta. But Chef Linton Hopkins and Chef Gabrielle Hamilton raised the bar (the one holding said lamb) for Restaurant Eugene’s author series last night, welcoming guests for al fresco cocktails around a smokey, homemade rotisserie reminiscent of the opening scene in Hamilton’s descriptive first book, Blood Bones & Butter. Although the spring roasts of Hamilton’s childhood took place in rural Pennsylvania, this one practically transported us there. After twelve hours sizzling street-side, it was served with crispy yam, fresh herbs with grapefruit and fennel, and a welcome 2008 Domaine de la Jannasse Cotes du Rhone. In spite of the evening’s centerpiece, I appreciated a baby-lamb-free vegetarian interpretation that was, I think, even more interesting and delicious.
While we waited for the main course, munching radishes and sipping an Austrian Gruner Veltliner, Hamilton read aloud the four-minute story of her first, somewhat accidental, encounter with what would become her highly praised New York City restaurant, Prune. From its unsavory start, she told us her haven now is a place where,
“when we’re feeling well,” applause rings out for no particular reason. This became a practice the packed house at Restaurant Eugene enthusiastically adopted.
“when we’re feeling well,” applause rings out for no particular reason. This became a practice the packed house at Restaurant Eugene enthusiastically adopted.
Our evening was spent in great company thanks to Atlanta-based interior designer, expert cook and arbiter of all good taste, Mimi Williams. Williams assembled a crowd of nine around the chef’s table who were given to acts of spontaneous applause until well after the last bite of dessert: a gritty/smooth, salty/sweet cornmeal pound cake with rosemary syrup and tart tangerine sorbet. Tricky to handle a fork and clap at the same time, but somehow we managed again and again. Afterwards, at home and very satiated, I indulged in the first chapter of Hamilton’s rich, well-constructed memoir and found it every bit as difficult to put down as that fork. I can’t wait for more.
