Last of the mousse

Eastside Road, January 4, 2015—

I REALLY HAVE NO IDEA how she made it, this deicious chicken-liver mousse. Well, I call it mousse; it's too smooth, unctuous, to be called a paté. It was the neighbor down the hill made it, and gave it to us as part of the holiday festivities. The chicken livers were from her sister-in-law, who raised the chickens a hundred miles north, on her ranch or perhaps at her feed store. Whatever the case, the result was delicious.

That's particularly interesting to me, because while I very much like mammal liver — fegato venziano most of all, which I cook using elk liver when I can — and while I'll never back away from paté de foie gras, chicken liver is something I can deal with only by carefully suspending my prejudices. And we all know that's a very difficult thing to do: particularly when it comes to food.

We're in a bit of a rush tonight, having been out to see a movie, and having still to pack for a trip that begins tomorrow before breakfast. So Cook simply made some toast, spread it with the last of this delicious chicken-liver mousse, set a dollop of leftover wild rice and mushrooms next to it, and finished with some green salad.

I have to say: we do eat well here.

"Guadagni" red, Preston of Dry Creek