By Valentine's Day week. I've never been the kind of person who makes much of February 14th, which is probably connected to the fact that I've spent most of my adult life either alone or in the early uncertain stages of something that didn't have enough history for the holiday to mean anything. This year I made Mom and Dad a good dinner and called it Valentine's, which is the version of the holiday I can do without irony.
Surf and turf, which I've never made before and which went better than I expected: a small beef tenderloin medallion for Dad and a larger one for me, pan-seared and finished in the oven, paired with butter-poached shrimp from the grocery store. Not Montana food exactly, but Mom mentioned years ago that she'd had lobster on her honeymoon in Bar Harbor and loved it, and the shrimp was the closest available approximation. She was delighted in the quiet way she does delight — a particular brightness around her eyes and a quality of attention that means something landed.
The farrier accounts have been steady through the cold. Two therapeutic cases are showing real improvement — Biscuit's angles have corrected enough that she's moving without the shortened stride she came to me with, and a horse named Colonel in Livingston with navicular disease has been more comfortable on the last two visits according to his owner. This is the kind of result that makes the certification feel real. Not the credential but the horses moving better because of it.
I wrote to Linda this week about a recipe she'd mentioned — her grandmother's chicken and dumplings, which she'd described in passing in the last letter. Asked if she'd share it. There's a specific pleasure in collecting recipes through correspondence that's different from finding them online. They arrive carrying the person who sent them.
The butter-poaching was what I kept thinking about after the plates were cleared — how something that simple could do so much work. I’d used plain unsalted butter for the shrimp, but I’ve since started keeping a log of compound butters worth having on hand, and minted butter sits near the top: it’s understated enough not to compete with good beef, and bright enough to do something interesting to shellfish. If I make this dinner again, which I think I will, this is how I’ll finish it.
Minted Butter
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 10 min (plus 1 hr chilling) | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
- 3 tablespoons fresh mint leaves, finely chopped
- 1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
- 1 teaspoon fresh lemon zest
- 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Instructions
- Soften the butter. Leave the butter out at room temperature for 30–45 minutes until it is genuinely soft and pliable but not melted. This matters — cold butter won’t incorporate the herbs evenly.
- Combine ingredients. In a small bowl, combine the softened butter, chopped mint, parsley, lemon zest, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Stir and fold together with a fork or spatula until the herbs are evenly distributed throughout.
- Taste and adjust. Taste on a small piece of bread or cracke. Adjust salt or lemon to your preference. The mint flavor will mellow slightly after chilling, so err slightly bold.
- Roll and chill. Turn the butter mixture out onto a sheet of plastic wrap or parchment paper. Shape into a log roughly 1 inch in diameter, roll tightly, and twist the ends to seal. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour until firm.
- Slice and serve. Cut into 1/4-inch rounds and place directly onto hot seared steak, grilled fish, or butter-poached shrimp just before serving. The butter will melt slowly over the meat as it rests.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 102 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 0g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 62mg