Herbfarm: A ridiculously unique gourmet dining experience

Thanks to Groupon, I finally got off my rear and booked a dinner seating at Herbfarm in Woodinville, Washington. This place is a little bit indescribable so bear with me.

Think cozy/quaint B&B rustic hunting lodge meets organic sustainable high-end dining meets Michelin-starred culinary expertise. Yeah, I know.

Tucked into a little oasis in Woodinville, The Herbfarm started out literally as a farming couple's random sales of excess herbs they had on the farm. Fast-forward to the couple's son and daughter as proprietors of this fine-dining experience. They have one seating a day, that starts with a garden tour - or in our case, a primer on the herbs we'd be enjoying with our dinner that night. It was way too cold and icky to be tromping around the gardens.

Dinner is about 9 courses, each paired with wine. When you see your table setting, it's like the china department at Macy's - there are literally 9 differently-shaped glasses lined up next to your plate. Shapes I've never even seen before.

The host welcomes you and a big introduction takes place when you sit down. Every single chef, kitchen staffmember and server is introduced, along with their fine pedigrees. We're talking 5 star hotels, top-tier international cooking schools- even "Iron Chef" participants. Each resume becomes more and more impressive than the next. Then the courses are explained in delightful detail, as are the paired wines and why they were chosen.

All the food is either grown at the farm, or obtained withing 100 miles. Even the condiments, like salt. The menu switches out every few weeks.

We experienced "The Hunter's Table." Think game, fowl.Veinson, goose, foie gras, wild mushrooms. I don't even know how they come up with some of the combinations of ingedients that they do, but it's magical. I don't even love duck or venison all that much, and even I found items to savor.

Here's a sample:

Parfait of Matsusake Mushroom & Grilled Duck Breast with Apple Horseradish Froth
Terrine of Bernie Nash's Ephrata Rabbit with Tarragon
Juniper Black Pepper Crusted Venison Loin over Creamed Brussel Sprouts
Seared Foie Gras on Sugar Pumpkin Pie with Pickled Pumpkin, Squash Ribbons and a Foie Gras-Ice Wine Drizzle
Rosemary and Caramel Mousse with Crispy Streusel, Roasted Pear, Warm Carmelized Pear Puree & Bacon-Caramel Sauce

Bacon? With caramel????!!! Oh. my. good. Lord. Genius. Ridiculous, right? In a good way.

We did a communal table which turned out to be really fun - even though we had asked for a private table when we arrived. They said they'd see what they could do after everyone was seated, but then made a very tacky announcement in front of all of the people we just met at our group table, saying they had a private table available if we wanted one. They kind of left us no classy way to take them up on it; It would have been rude to do so at that time so we declined, but again, we had a marvelous time with the folks we were with. We really think this would make a great group dining adventure event for a pack of friends.

The service was a little odd - maybe because you're there for 4 hours. Sort of creepy, "fake nice" in a way, sprinkled with a bit of attitude masked as a passive-aggressive tolerance of idiots. I can't really put my finger on it, but it just felt, well, strained.

It's been about a week and I'm still not sure how I feel about the place. I enjoyed the imaginiative food and phenomenal wines. I loved going out to feed the two Vietnameses potbellied pigs - a treat for diners - who are the Farm's own compost system. And I would love to stay the night at the adorably romantic Willows Lodge right across the driveway from the restaurant. There's even a high-end but much more casual restaurant right next door in the same circular driveway, The Barking Frog, that looks amazing.

It was by far the most unique dining experience I've ever had and I'm glad we went. It costs a forune, though, so save up and maybe do it with a group if you can.

My First Ever Book Signing

OK, not really my first. I threw a launch party for my new Branding Basics book and have done signings at workshops and such at which I have spoken. But this was my first official book store signing, at the Borders in Downtown Seattle.

Paul suggested I share this experience. As he stated, "Not everyone has gotten to experience a book store signing, so share it!"

It was, in a word, educational.

I solicitied my local bookshops to carry my book with the offer to come in and do a signing. I figured that, like local food, local authors might be pretty trendy right now. I ran into some glitches with the stores being able to carry the book, but Borders downtown was totally down with it and agreed.

Not knowing what the heck to expect, I coerced my intern into attending with me and keeping me company. It was between 11 am and 1 pm on a weekday and we were hoping to get foor traffic from the businesspeople sweeping in on their lunch hour. My mother in law joked, "Will it be like Tony Blair and tons of people there, perhaps throwing things at you?" Um, no. But the "tons of people" part may have been fun.

So we sat at the table with the little sign that said, "Meet Author Maria Ross!" The books took over 40 minutes to get out to us from the back room - something about a pricing sticker that needed to be placed, which ultimately never made it on to the books. So we chatted and twiddled our thumbs.

Then the crazies started coming out. I love doing things downtown during the week.

One guy chatted us up about his Green Libertarian party. He was interested in brand in context of his cause, and I initially engaged with him because I thought he was lookng to create a brand for his movement. He tried to explain how the two ideologies can co-exist but all I remember is something about "not throwing people in jail for marijuana use because it's a waste of resources" or something like that.

Then another guy showed up with his backpack. He hovered for a while then started asking what the book was about. He told me he was a writer, too and chit chatted aimlessly for a bit more. Then he came back later and started critiquing my cover design, my title ("Should have called it Branding Basics for ALL Business and deleted the S-M. Would make it more appealing to a larger market." Wow.) He kept on rambling, and I told him he could make those decisions for his own book when he writes one. To which he got very defensive and said, "How did you know I was writing a book?" I said, "Because you told me you were a writer." Then he smiled and pulled out a poem he'd written on notebook paper, lovingly placed in a protective plastic cover. I didn't read it because I didn't want to encourage him any further, but I did not it each line alternated in blue and red ink and it was something about his passion for being a romantic with women.

As I furtively glanced around for security - which was doubtful since they were so understaffed that day, the Events Manager was making lattes in the cafe - he asked us to watch his backpack so he could get his coat. As he bounded upstairs leaving a dubious looking ratty bag next to our table, I started sweating. He had a coat on already, so was he just leaving us a bomb?! With relief, I saw his toting a trench coat (of course) as he approached to once again retrieve his bag and, mercifully, left.

Other than a very nice father and son visiting from out of town (dad ran a marketing agency and son was a copywriter) who actually bought a copy of the book, we didn't make any other sales that day. I signed 5 more copies that they adorned with an "Signed by Author!" sticker and we said our goodbyes. The manager said we could come back again any time to schedule another signing but I don't think so.

I have another signing set for when I go home to Ohio at Thanksgiving. We'll see. Right now, I'm thinking that unless I have handlers, a promotional blitz for the event and an agent, maybe I'm not really big time enough to draw a bookstore crowd...yet. But it was a fun experience to have and I know, like Paul says, not everyone gets to say they had a book signing!

My faith in Hollywood is restored...for now

After reading so much ridiculous spin from big studios lately, about how they will only place bets on familiar franchises and less on original works, I was feeling a bit hopeless. Were we really destined for a future of Transformers 23 starring Shia LeBouf's great grandson and Spider Man 64 starring whichever actor is less high-maintenance than Toby Maguire? The fact that one of the studios even said that a lackluster movie franchise is cheaper to keep going than bombing with an original work with which no one is familiar is just sad. Are we really that stupid and boring?

So it was actually quite funny to read all the hype about Inception, the sci-fi thriller starring Leonardo DiCaprio and - in a "WTF?! But it works!" pairing move, Ellen Page of Juno famo (loved her in that). The WSJ had a full spread about how this movie was being closely watched to see how a completely original idea would do at the box office. Again, sad state of affairs when that makes news.

It wasn't until we heard a glowing review on my husband's favorite BBC podcast from film critic Mark Kermode that we decided to venture out. Now that we have Netflix on Demand, this was a big deal indeed.

And we were so glad we did.

This was everything a movie should be. The suspense and tension carried through the entire film, like the best of the Bond movies. Leo was excellent, leading a crew (like Ocean's 11 without the snarkybanter) of misfits who are hired to steal information from people's dreams. Think corporate espionage or the locations of hidden plans - that sort of thing. Then they are hired by an Asian oil magnate to actually plant an idea (inception) into a young scion's head about breaking up his father's global empire - their biggest competition. This is trickier and more risky than just stealing information that is already there, as it required going several layers deep into the subconscious (a dream within a dream within a dream). Things get further complicated by Leo's character's own subconscious demons, that often manifest on these "missions" and put everyone in jeopardy.

I won't give the rest away, but while it might sound really complicated, it's surprisingly easy to follow. I usually get lost with plots like this, having to ask my husband what the hell is going on. But they did a beautiful storytelling job of assuming the audience would buy into some of the more sci-fi elements without overexplaining them. This simplification and faith in our abiltiy to "buy into it" kept the plot nimble and clear. They could have gotten bogged down in explaining how it all works, but thankfully, they didn't insult our intelligence and thus avoided confusing us in the process.

The acting was fantastic. The alternate reality was completely believable and everything tied together nice and neatly to explain everything. For example, the simple explanation for how they get our of the dream is to receive a "kick" that revives them and brings them back into reality - whether their sleeping body is knocked over in a chair or dunked into a bathtub full of water. This device was cleverly used and explained as they had to descend into multiple levels of subconscious and provided the most intense suspense in the film. All without dumbing it down nor overexplaining the concept. You just had to accept this as it was and it worked.

I'm pleased as punch that Hollywood's test for orignality paid off so handsomely at the box office. Maybe this means insightful and smart storytelling and filmmaking is not dead after all. Hurrah!

Stumbling Goat: Rockin' the Local Vibe

Had an amazing dinner at a Phinney Ridge gem the other night with friends - Stumbling Goat Bistro. Always on the lookout for new finds, we jumped at our friends' suggestion of hitting this place, after a delightful wine tasting downtown. Our friends have embarked on a month-long Eat Local experiment so we let them choose the dinner locale. What a treat...

My husband and I have gotten more savvy - as have many Americans - about where our food comes from. We are blessed on the West Coast, and in the Pacific NW in particular, to have such an abundance of local and fresh treasures. We try to eat organic when we can and, while we're not quite ready to go vegan like some of our friends (we love a juicy well-grilled steak way too much), we have become more aware and concerned with both how the animals are treated, the living conditions in which they are exposed and just what is injected into their bodies. I saw a documentary that talked about how the chicken you buy today might look like Grandma's chicken but it really is anything but, what with all the growth hormones and mass-processing chemicals. Yucko. While you expect some food to be bad for you when you eat it (Big Macs, Cheetos) I never realized what crap lies in my freshly grilled rosemary chicken, just by virtue of its provenance.

So with that in mind, we tucked into the Stumbling Goat. It's a dark (in a cozy way), funky little bistro with cool art adorning the walls and a friendly staff. So many things jumped out at me, I had a hard time deciding between one succulent menu selection to the next. The menu lists every supplier and farm from which they source their food and includes the website. Nice touch. This is also listed on their Purveyors page off their own website.

A bunch of us started with the butter lettuce salad with shaved radish and onion, toasted hazlenuts and sherry vinaigrette. What a perfect balance of nutty goodness with a mellow yet herbalicious dressing. It tasted "just picked." Others chose the heirloom tomato salad with fromage blanc and fresh basil. This was a refreshing summertime treat.

My husband had the appetizer duck liver terrine with cherry wine gelee as his main course, and the rest of us ran the gamut from morel and asparagus risotto (a creamy slice of heaven) to grilled hangar steak to duck breat to heirloom bean cassoulet. Every bite tasted more divine that the next and a few of us traded nibbles to get a full sampling of all the bistro had to offer.

For dessert, we shared cherry chocolate creme pies (which was like an ice cream sandwich) and a homemade ice cream. I enjoyed the creme pies, but they were way too frozen for my taste - they could have done with some thawing out first. Throw in some fun cocktails - I tried a frefreshing pomegranate basil which was vodka, bruised basil, lemon and pomegranate juice - and two bottles of champagne, and the bill still came out to only about $120 per couple. Pretty sweet indeed for such good quality and so many courses.

I can see how, if you have the money and the access, eating local for a month may not be such a bad thing!

Happy "Lifeday"?

Today marks my two year anniversary of surviving my brain aneurysm. Pretty damn cool. Yes, to answer your question, I probably will remember this day for the rest of my life. Well, the date anyway - I don't recall the day at all, nor most of the ensuing month in ICU.

Tonight, I'll be going to dinner with my hubby to celebrate life, luck, blessings and joy. I was touched that when, while running errands this weekend and enjoying our Seattle summer, I said, "You know, it's been 2 years on Wednesday. I think we should go out to dinner to celebrate," he didn't even hesitate but felt exactly the same way. "Yes," he said, "Let's definitely do that."

What makes this doubly awesome is that I had a follow-up appointment with my retinal surgeon on Tuesday morning. Dr. Kinyoun diagnosed me with Terson Syndrome when I couldn't see for 6 weeks in the hospital, performed the surgery required to "clear out" my left eye and restore at least half my sight, discovered my subsequent torn retina and managed us through the emergency retinal reattachment surgery while we were home in Columbus for Thanksgiving that year - and all the followup visits thereafter. I was seeing him every 6 weeks for almost the first year, and had not seen him in a year when I went in this week. We were genuinely happy to see each other: my hair has grown longer and I'm back to my normal weight and pallor. He gave me the "all clear" on any issues left over from the Tersons - my right eye had completely re-absorbed all the blood that was in the vitreous, levaing no more "rose petals" in my vision. My only issue now is a cataract in my left eye caused by all the surgical traumas, which is being monitored and seems to be holding steady.

Arriving to my appointment early, I went to fetch a much-needed morning coffee - in the building right across from the ER. Now, mind you, I don't remember the ER at all, but every time I walk by it, I shudder. I think about Paul arriving after the ambulance pulled in, the commotion that must have ensued when they rushed me into a scan room and then surgery, the smell of disinfectant and fear, the horror he must have felt at hearing a doctor say, "We've saved her life but we have no idea what she'll be like when she comes out of this." I can't even imagine him going through that alone. I'm his wife: I should be there for him during those times, but I obviously couldn't be. It tears my heart into a thousand pieces. While I am spared that painful trauma, he feels it any time we're near a hospital.

I watched the ER doors. Blessedly, there was not much going on that day. I thought of all the lives that are forever changed by that entrance. I could almost envision the ambulances racing in, the families aimlessly wandering around in shock, the countless people who lose their loved ones through that doorway each and every day. So much pain, so much loss.

But I made it. We made it. I regained my vision, restored my strength, got back to my business - and even wrote a book this year, published in June. Did I come back wiser, more thankful, more "aware"? I'd like to think so. Even when stress takes over and I'm overwhelmed (with my brain injury, this happens a lot more often than it used to - I can't process as much stimuli as I did before), I take at least a second to say, "You're still here. Nothing else matters as much." And I breathe again.

So I went to my appointment and then drove home. I snuggled with my dog, smiled at the sun and thanked God for not being ready for me yet. And then I went back to work.

Friday musings: Last one at the party

Whoa, it's been a while. With all the writing I do for my business, my own website, my corporate blog, my book edits, the guest blogs I've been posting - not to mention social media - I've been a bit lax about the original Red Slice blog. Kind of like the oldest child you forget about because you're chasing after the little ones. So sorry, bambino.

It's been a good week. I've settled on hiring my promotional consultant and my internet marketing agency for my Branding Basics for Small Business book launch, set for June 2010. I'd put a link to more info about it, but haven't even had time to create the new page off of my website yet. Ugh. Soon, chickens, soon.

But it's Friday. And my husband gets back from a week in South America tomorrow. And I'm off tonight to hear a author Eric Liu talk about applying creativity to your business. I've been in a fairly contemplative mood all week, depsite all the nuttiness.

I was thinking this week about my parents. They are in their early 80's and probably go out more than I do. Just a few weekends ago, my folks went to a bowling tournament in Toledo. My dad has had 2 hips replaced and he's bowling. Now that's committment. But there is a bittersweet side to their life and longevity: they slowly have to say goodbye to their good friends. It seems not a phone call with my mom goes by without her telling me so-and-so just passed away. In some cases, it's shocking and unexpected; other times, it's the result of a long, slow, painful health issue and the passing comes as a sweet blessing. The other day, my mom told me one of her best friends is being operated on for a brain tumor and she said, "I'm praying for her. I don't know what I'd do without my sounding board."


I thought about this in the context of my own wonderful friendships. All the folks who make me laugh, prop me up when I'm down, or just generally hang out with me. The ones who know me better than I know myself at times. The ones who saw the train wrecks of my life coming a mile away and still loved and supported me. The ones I share secrets with, the ones I have kept in touch with despite distance and time. All of them flashed through my mind this week and I thought how terribly, terribly sad it would be to watch them leave me. While I selfishly am so thankful my parents are here, and vibrant and mentally present (and that they live by themselves), my heart aches for them having to slowly say goodbye to those they laughed with, cried with, and shared secrets of their own with.

It reminded me of a party winding down. And I guess that's kind of how life is. It builds and builds as you get to know yourself and your place in the world, and the room fills with people. Some stay while others go and new ones take their place. But in the end, sadly, the party has to end. And if you stay long enough as more people start to clear out, then you are the one who sees the confetti mess on the floor, the empty wine bottles, and the dirty glasses in the sink. Is it better to be one of the first to leave the party at full-swing so you are not surrounded by the emptiness left behind at the end? I'm not sure.

But it is nice to think of it as a party, no matter what happens. Helps you remember to enjoy the fun while it lasts and cherish those who are there with you.