Last Saturday, my parents, grandparents and I drove to Lark Hill Winery for Mother’s Day lunch. Saturday, not Sunday, you ask? Why yes, Saturday, because we are rebels who won’t be constrained by social expectations. Also, the owner of Lark Hill was really nice and suggested Saturday as the better, quieter option for our group. Hurrah for friendly and accommodating restaurants!
Upon arriving at Lark Hill Winery and gazing over its gorgeous sun-lit vineyard, we delightedly read on the menu that many of its ingredients were grown in the restaurant owner’s 96-year-old father’s nearby garden. Nifty indeed.
We received a lovely amuse bouche of pumpkin soup with horseradish cream, which reminded me that I love horseradish and need to use it more often. (But not in my breakfast cherry coconut smoothies.)
For entrée (appetizer, if you’re American), Dad and I shared the “charcuterie: sopressa, bresaola and duck liver paté”, which came with crostini, poached quince, and julienned pickles. I very rarely eat meat, and therefore don’t feel equipped to comment on the cured meats. That said, Dad and I felt the paté could have packed a stronger flavour punch.
For mains, the menfolk ordered the “braised lamb and vegetable shepherds pie with pea puree”, while the not-me womenfolk had the “ocean trout on warm potato salad”. Because I can’t comment on those dishes, I will instead tell you that I ordered Lark Hill’s 2009 sparkling Rosé (you know I love Rosé), but unfortunately it wasn’t to my taste (too red wine-y for me). Luckily Grandpa took it off my hands, and I switched to the crazy-delicious 1999 Lark Hill Brut (i.e. champagne-but-not-officially).
For my main, I had the “Lark Hill kale and ricotta tart”, mostly because I adore kale despite only having eaten it about twice in my life. The buttery pastry, creamy ricotta, toasted pine nuts, and ribbons of kale came together beautifully in this tart.
Before we move on, see the potato wedges at the top of this post? They were incredible, so crunchy outside and fluffy inside. We somehow received a second bowl that no one remembered ordering, and it was even better than the first. The second bowl’s chips were almost-but-not-quite-burnt, and therefore ridiculously crispy. I’m not ashamed to admit that Mum and I took complete control of that second bowl.
It was about this time that my seriously you people I’m not kidding half a glass and then quarter of a glass of bubbly kicked in. Mum went to take a photo of Dad and me and, um:
(Later on, Mum picked up the almost-finished bottle of bubbly and offered it to her parents, saying “Hannah won’t want any more”, because I usually don’t. This time, however, I stared her down. “Bring it,” I said, beckoning Matrix-style with my hand. “We’ve come this far.”)
There were two dessert options that Saturday, a chocolate fondant and “pear poached in Lark Hill ‘Auslese’ Riesling”, neither of which appealed to me. I ordered a cappuccino instead, and stole just a bite of the pear that Mum and Dad shared. I’d like to tell you how I fell about laughing when Mum ate the entire mint garnish in one bite because she couldn’t be bothered removing it from her spoon, but a) you probably had to be there, and b) it might have been the champagne accentuating my amusement.
It also appears that, when I’ve had a little over one glass of champagne, I can’t stand upright like a normal person.
After our wonderful, laughter-filled, scrumptious, and happiness-enveloped lunch, we stopped by Bungendore to do a bit of pottering. I scored several Fun Dips at the local Lolly Shop, and then Mum, Grandma, and I hit the jackpot in Bungendore’s antique shop.
People, that place has some awesomely amazing look-at-me necklaces. I wanted ALL OF THEM. Mum bought one, Grandma bought two, and I bought three, one of which I’ll show you today (to fully understand the size of this necklace, consider that the photo encompasses the entire A4 paper I rested it on):
Question Time: What was the highlight of your Mother’s Day this year?