Quaintrelle

Quaintrelle

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Quaintrelle
Quaintrelle
Leftovers are Clutch for Dazzling Dinner Parties. I'll Prove It to You.

Leftovers are Clutch for Dazzling Dinner Parties. I'll Prove It to You.

Plus – Potato Gnocchi Two Ways: With Butter Sauce & Crispy Mushrooms + Baked with Gorgonzola Sauce

Erin Henderson's avatar
Erin Henderson
Feb 19, 2025
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Quaintrelle
Quaintrelle
Leftovers are Clutch for Dazzling Dinner Parties. I'll Prove It to You.
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Welcome to Quaintrelle, a weekly newsletter written by me, journalist-turned-sommelier and party host, Erin Henderson.

Would you be so kind as to click that little heart above?❤️

Here I share my my insights from decades of working in hospitality to bring back stylish and stress free hosting.

Won’t you join us?

In this edition of Quaintrelle…

  • Yes, I panicked. But there was an excellent* reason.

  • Leftovers are my secret weapon to stylish and seamless dinner parties. Seriously.

  • The 3 simple tricks for reimagining leftovers into company-worthy show stoppers that take the stress out of having people over.

  • Recipe: Potato gnocchi in butter sauce with crispy mushrooms

  • Recipe Redux: Baked gnocchi with peas in gorgonzola cream sauce

  • $15 (!!!!) Wine Pairings for each, and yes, I’m naming names.

*sort of ok

Me, having fun on my birthday, and not paying my mortgage.

“I been savin' this money for a divorce, if ever I got a husband.” Annie, It’s a Wonderful Life

I nearly forgot to pay my mortgage Monday.

Hearing the reminder ping from my computer, my heart froze and I audibly gasped, nearly dropping my early-morning coffee while running to my home office, “fuckety-fuckety-fuck!”

It was a long weekend, you see, and it was my birthday – and a snow-bound one at that. So my normal routine was thrown off by the holiday Monday, my birthday the past Friday, and a few days of hunkering down as Toronto “got pummelled” by 35 centimetres of snow.

(My next favourite news headline is how “x” number of inches of snow, or millimetres of rain, “brought Toronto to its knees.” You’d think the sharp and condescending minds of top editors and journalists would realize talking about any kind of measurement of length in association with getting pummelled and being brought to one’s knees would be quickly snuffed out. Then again, I spent a decade working in newsrooms. Underneath those elbow-patched tweed jackets and field-worn cargo pants is a bunch of 12-year-olds.)

Anyway, back to my mortgage woes. (Settle in; it’s a long list.) Because I have a healthy fear of Mr Potter swooping in on his magnificent wheelchair to repossess my humble abode, I, of course, freaked out when the mortgage money wasn’t lying in wait to be bled out by the bank.

Mr. Potter, just waiting to get his hands on my home.

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