Truly the ultimate in Farm to Table dinners.

Sometime during the mad rush, the master lost his nametag in the grass. I’m sure he did not notice.

Garlic infused olive oil for the chanterelles. My man keeps bringing them up, how spectacular they were, and knowing that I missed this. Never have I been able to find any of these mushrooms, and it is a case for those, that do know where to find them, that “If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.” 😉

“Can you go get me a glass of wine, while I take more pictures?” “Sure.”

I come back to the Groover drinking my wine, and the man on the phone. Surprise. Anyway, he is happy to finally talk to the straw farmer he has been trying to get a load of straw from for the barns this winter.

Now everyone sits in the tent, for the courses to be presented.

First of all, the tables were so lovely, down to the last detail, and everyone had a handmade, hand sewn, block print booklet at each place, describing the event and those involved.

Steph White made the beautiful books, handcarving the print from wood and hand printing each and every one and hand sewing it too!

There was a place in the back to take Notes from the Field, which was so dear. Overwhelming the Senses described the evening, and to be able to jot down some thoughts and observations was such a great idea.

I had no idea the man was even paying attention, but… he was.

The first course included Classic Gazpacho, Watermelon, Papalo (which I cannot imagine it could be described as Classic at all. It was sublime, and I covet the recipe.)

A feast for the eyes as well.

We were sitting with some youngish groovers, who most certainly did not know what to think of the man. He was taking Notes on the sublime Gazpacho.

I had no idea he even knew what V8 was, but this was certainly a big compliment to the chef.

His next note needs a bit of background.

So, the man is not what you would describe as “technical.” The other night he had to make his airline reservation to go home to Holland for his mom’s 98th birthday. For some reason, KLM has decided to upgrade their reservation system and required a new password to be set up in his online account, which must be done online.

He threw a fit. Wasting time, trying to intimidate the poor woman on the phone, to just take his reservation, was embarrassing to say the least. He cried that we live in a remote area with bad internet and he demands to speak to her supervisor, and then his supervisor. Oh brother.

I grab his dumb iPad while he is screaming on the phone, and get into his account, and change his password, in about 5 min. He finally gets off the phone and says, “So, what’s my password?”

“It is one that you will never forget, and everyone you meet will know your password, immediately, before they even have to guess.” “It had to have one symbol, one number, one capital, and 8 characters.”

His head was spinning, trying to figure out what that even meant.

“Your password is #1Asshole.” hmmmm.

Of course the groovers at the table that I had to explain this back story to were still confused, as most people are when they are when having dinner with the man.

This is what he was referring to about “the guy in front of me.”

I’m definitely not groovy enough to understand the hand signals, but he would not let me take his picture without the hand signals.

So, I’m off to take more pictures. The lamb was just being taken down.

This corn, locally grown as all of the ingredients Kalon uses, was definitely freshly taken from the cob.

Loved this. Kalon wanted me to taste our lamb. The flavor and roasting were absolutely perfect.

Now for the artistic plating up.

Now for the unearthing of the vegetables.

Ok, English was the man’s fourth language, but in any case, the vegetables were encased in a linen sheet and buried below the fire. I missed the unearthing part, bummer, so I don’t know what was on top of the sheet, under the dirt and fire.

The Parker’s beef was absolutely perfect.

Then, the front of the house, with his polaroid, started working the crowd. Words cannot adequately describe this darling man. Chris and his equally darling wife Natalie, are the owners with Kalon of the Supper at the Sunflower.

and our dear friends and favorite ranchers, Bill and Kelli Parker of Parker Pastures (sorry Bill the picture is not focused, and that dear Kelli is not in it.)

Gratefulness all around.

Salon’s entire team was flawless, but his right hand man, Chris Sullivan of Mountain Oven and The Guild Cafe was his invaluable right hand man.

The man is still taking notes.

“No, for heaven’s sake.” hmmmm, the man is just like the sheep, five minutes after they have had a feast, they act like they are starving.

and the dear flowers, removed from their jars, signaled the end of a unforgettable evening.

Yes, it sure is. We are so grateful, for so very much.