It was a poor presentation, and I didn’t even realize it until Tom reached for a chip.
I’d spent 40 minutes to make a very small bowl of pate out of the giblets from the whole chicken I was roasting for dinner tonight. Then, rather than present it on one of the many lovely serving dishes we have, I slapped it down in front of him with a bag of chips.
This pate is great stuff, rich and lovely and smooth, and he loves it. That’s why it’s worth the effort.
But somehow I forgot the presentation part.
I have always had a blind spot when it comes to this. The effort is in the creation, and that’s where I want it.
I remember when I was a kid and my parents had friends visiting one afternoon. One of us suggested popcorn as a snack, and I jumped up to prepare it.
I felt very grown up because I knew how to pop the popcorn in a big kettle, heating the oil with three test kernels and then shaking the kettle on the stove so that the popcorn all popped and didn’t burn.
When it was done, I brought it out to serve the guests exactly the way we always ate it in the Schnellinger household: in a clean dishwashing pan.
My mother was horrified and embarrassed, and her friends howled with laughter. I was mortified. How was I to know?
Well, I know better now. Tom didn’t care. As you can see in the featured image, it didn’t stop him from eating half of it.
And it’s not like I never present food properly; I do. Sometimes.
But I think I have it right. Make the food taste good. Put your love into that. If you serve it in a dishpan, it will still taste good.
Today’s penny is a 2014, when I learned how to make this pate.
