A Foodie Adventure

Sitting at my desk in our winter rental in Galveston, opportunities for culinary adventures kept cropping up on my computer. The Full Moon Forrest Dinner at Ronin Farm intrigued me – but the dinner was in February, and I could only think about how cold it would be.

I checked on the warmer months ahead and discovered a Pink Moon dinner in April. It was a farm-to-table offering with more courses than I could count, but it wasn’t the dinner that drew me in; it was dining in the forest under a full moon. I made reservations at Ronin Farm months in advance.

Three Months later

So here we are, three months later and three hours away from home, nestled in a room that speaks of the faded glory of old world elegance in Messina Hof’s Winery Village House. Unfortunately, a forecast of heavier rain threatens to ruin all my beautiful images of a perfect alfresco evening. The ACCU Weather radar tells me the best-laid plans I made in January are about to go awry. With rain outside and a bed inside, and a long, wet, tedious trip behind us, we decide the wisest course of action is to take a nap before dinner.

A Walk in The Woods

A rainy twenty-minute drive takes us to the entrance of Ronin Farm where several cars are parked in the mud and grass out side the gate. Three young men, all bearing large umbrellas and standing in the middle of the road, show us where to park. Once we join them on the muddy path, we are told to walk through the gate and follow the road to the brick path and dinner. The cattle guard we cross reminds me of a walk in the rain in Wales. Michael and I laugh at the memory. It looks like this might be a memorable excursion too.

It takes a long time to find the brick path. Where in the heck is it? Other diners ask the same question. We shake our heads in wonder, hold our umbrellas high, and continue our forward march. Finally, discovering the open-air barn we had been promised in case of rain, we walk toward light, laughter – and dinner. Once shown to our table, Michael looks at me and says, “@#$% I left the wine in the trunk.”

“Maybe we don’t need it?” I say. But he is off into the fray without his umbrella. Feeling guilty, gathering my senses, I soon walk down the muddy path, umbrella in hand, thinking Michael needs me. I am much slower than he is, and by the time I reach the cattle guard to cross into the street, he is there, wine tote in hand, shanking his head, asking, “What are you doing here.”

A Table for Six

Finally taking our seats at our assigned table, we introduce ourselves to our dinner companions for the evening. Two couples, three heads of red hair. I think they must be related their discussion is so lively, but they are strangers like us. All four of them smile and say, “We are celebrating our anniversary. How about you? Is it your anniversary too?”

“We just like dining adventures,” I say. Michael pipes up and tells them how long we have been married, embellishing the number of years by a smidge. At any rate, we’ve been married a lot longer than one couple’s fourteen years and the other couple’s five years.

The youngest of the twosomes tell us they were married at Ronin Farm. “It was magical,” the wife says, “We had dinner in the forest.” The husband adds that we are sitting in the area where they danced, and we learn that they celebrate each anniversary at the Pink Moon dinners in the forest. That, I think, is magical too.

I am enchanted by each story we hear, and the joy and smiles of these two couples are infectious. We continue our chatter as we wait for our first course, an amuse-bouche. The young man beside me, studying to be a physician, tells us that when he first heard the term, he had no idea what it meant, so he looked it up. I merely knew that some chefs in finer dining establishments offered it gratis as a precursor to the meal — always a treat. Tonight I discover that in French the literal translation is “it amuses the mouth.” I smile at the information, continuing to learn things in the oddest of circumstances.

And What is Your Favorite Food?

With both couples originating from Houston, the conversation at our table turns to food, and which restaurants are good in Houston. Which restaurants are great and not to be missed. I busily enter the information in my phone. Someone asks, “What is your favorite food?” I’m dumbfounded. I like it all. Well, almost all.

The couple celebrating their fourteen-year anniversary does not hesitate in their reply. It is a döner sandwich. I ask them to spell it. This culinary treat needs some research. Our dinner companions tell me that it is a Turkish sandwich piled high with shaved meat. It is the best thing the husband ever ate, being more memorable because he ate it while visiting Turkey. And notable because that was the trip where he noticed the girl that would become his future wife. Listening to this tale, the young woman celebrating her 5th anniversary tells us she grew up in Turkey.

My eyes widen. I have a thousand questions I’ll never get to ask.

A Nine Course Farm to Table Feast

There are nine courses on the menu, each described in one or two words: Maine Lobster,  Farm Radish, Sweet Potato, Ronin Farm Chicken Pate, Texas Gulf Shrimp, Intermezzo, Texas Lamb, Mixed Cheeses, and Hibiscus. All of this gives us a bare hint of what’s to come. We don’t even try to guess what is actually in store. It is an adventure after all.

An Amuse Bouche. Farm Radish. Sweet Potato.

When our amuse bouche arrives, it is a small circle of homemade corn tortilla topped with torn Maine Lobster and scattered with the tiniest edible flowers. The lobster is sweet and succulent and consumed in a heartbeat.

When the various courses start arriving, the conversation turns to what is before us. The Farm Radish is a rainbow of crisp farm-fresh vegetables: marron carrots, turnips, and radish shaved thin and sitting atop tender fresh greens dressed with a sweet vinaigrette and more beautiful edible flowers. I could eat a bigger bowl full.

The Sweet Potato is a soup. The first thing I notice is that the velvety soup is very bacon-forward. (I wonder what brand they used or if it is from a local farm?) The smoky richness of the bacon and the multiple chunks of salty goodness that sank to the bottom of the bowl make me want to inhale the whole thing. The soup is garnished with nutty pecans, a drizzle of olive oil, and more edible flowers. The richness of autumn enhanced with the freshness of spring. Lovely.

Ronin Farm Chicken Pate. Texas Gulf Shrimp.

When I see the Ronin Farm Chicken Pate I realize this course is a symphony of contrasts that allows me to play with my food. I decide to construct the perfect bite. Starting with crisp country toast, I add a smear of rich chicken pate, a bit of sweetness from the jam, acid from the pickled red onion, and freshness from the frisee. By the time I finish building my creation, all other plates are devoid of even a crumb. I need to hurry and build another bite.

The Texas Gulf Shrimp is a mini deconstructed shrimp boil. The shrimp is a bit of a challenge to eat served whole, but once you crack the thin shell, and taste the fruit de mer it is delicious, and worth the struggle. The broth, potato, and grilled summer squash are equally good. This tasty bite is truly my cup of tea. Everyone else at our table thinks it is stellar too.

Intermezzo. Texas Lamb.

Our Intermezzo is a surprise. I was expecting a small scoop of sorbet. But instead, we are served a small glass of barely sweet herb-infused water. Following this refreshing palate cleanser is the main course of Texas Lamb. 

This plate of food appears to be the soul of farm-country cooking. It reminds me of childhood dinners at my grandmother’s farm. However, my Aunt Minnie (the cook in the family) never would have thought to enhance the plate with rose petals. My grandmother would have been horrified to see her roses used is such a fashion. I like it.

In addition to the tender braised lamb, there is an abundance of savory black-eyed peas, deep green collard greens, and — cornmeal mush. Something I had never eaten before, and unfortunately, I did not love. I seem to be in the minority because everyone else cleaned their plates. Perhaps it is an acquired taste.

A European Tradition – Mixed Cheeses

We are nearing the end of our culinary journey when a beautiful plate of Mixed Cheeses is set in front of each diner. The lovely cheese course, originating across the pond in England, is seldom seen at my house or any restaurant we frequent. I’m enchanted and think that maybe it is time to begin a new tradition at my dinner parties.

A discussion ensues about which cheese is best and what type of cheese we eat. I taste truffle. Someone else says Manchego. The only thing we are all sure of is that all of the cheese comes from Texas farms. Accompanying the delectable dairy treats are sweet and tart counterparts. A red berry jam. Crunchy sugar-cocoa-encrusted pecans,. Vinegary pickled celery. Neutral cheese biscuits. The meal could end right now and we would all be happy. However, according to our menu, one more course is still to come – Hibiscus. We think tea.

Dessert and Saying Good-bye

Shared ideas and experiences spark and swirl and flow between newfound friends The lively discussions have been as bright and welcoming as the food we eat. I tell our dinner companion how I feel, “We came for the forest and the food, but the conversation made the entire dinner very special.”

The six of us raise our glasses in a toast to sitting at a good table full of laughter, smiles, friendship and shared experiences. A stellar evening.

Finishing the last bite of the sweet and fruity surprise of Hibiscus pudding, we bid goodbye to four lovely people. Grabbing our umbrellas, we head into the damp night, dodging puddles as we walk.

Ronin Farm

To experience a culinary adventure of your own, and learn more about Ronin Farm, their special events, and their farm to table restaurant in Bryan, click on the following link — hopefully it won’t rain. https://ronintx.com/farm