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September 2011
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November 2011

The Great Stuffed Pumpkin Caper

What to do on a late October Saturday when a freak nor'easter is dumping snow on your Jack O Lanterns? First, an early morning run to the Upper East Side for espressos, and then the pre-storm ritual run through a hysteria-filled grocery store.

Time for comfort food snowstorm cooking with a twist: instead of winter stews, how about a harvest bake? A stuffed pumpkin.  What would be a better time than two days before Halloween, when there should be a plethora of pumpkins  to choose from.

Only there wasn't. Seems that pumpkins were yesterday's plethora; now the market was pushing cinnamon-scented pine cones. Couldn't figure out a recipe for that, so I had to sacrifice our front porch pumpkin, formerly destined to be our Jack O Lantern, now to be our dinner.  One has to do what one has to do to survive in a storm.

I was using Dorie Greenspan's recipe as published on Epicurious.com.  Knowing that the males in the family would be expecting more than breed, cheese, and squash for dinner, I fiddled with the recipe, adding:

  • smoked gouda with the gruyere
  • chives
  • bacon
  • mushrooms
  • twice the  salt than the recipe called for after reading the reviews

I also reduced the fat content a twee by eliminating cream and substituting a mixture of part skim ricotta, a beaten egg, and Greek yogurt. 

 

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First problem: what to cook it in? I used a large Corningware baking pan, which was adequate but was very messy after baking.   Our pumpkin was tall and narrow, not ideal for this recipe as it was too tall to fit in the oven with the stemmed cap,  so I baked it on the side and covered the opening with foil.

This turned out to be a blessing in disguise when, after two hours at 350 degrees, the filling still wasn't getting hot, and I was able to remove the foil and raise the temp to 375. Finally, the stuffing began to puff up and the pumpkin  began to swell and the rim slightly crack.  I put some  foil on the oven rack in case of a Krakatoa. 

 

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 After three hours in total, a most gorgeous, satisfying result:

 

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The pumpkin turned a gloriously rich leathery shade. The sides just began to crack, artfully oozing cheese and bacon. The pan, however, was a mess and I will have to rethink what to serve this in at a holiday meal or dinner party as there's no way to transfer it to a serving dish after it is cooked.

 

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The verdict: everyone agreed that the presentation was amazing. The male population of the household was cajoled into taking a serving that included the a wedge of pumpkin itself, once it was kindly pointed out that pumpkin was a squash, not just a Halloween novelty.

 

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Apologies for the under-exposed photograph: we used a cell phone as were too hungry to go upstairs to get the good camera.

 

The consensus was that the crusty, browned top was delicious: savory, cheesy, bacony, a mouth-pleasing mixture of crust and cream.  The rest of the filling was more like a sauce than an entree, creating a  "porridgy" texture, as one person called it. I would toast the baguette croutons more heavily next time in hopes of retaining a little crunch. 

Although the large pumpkin was a show-stopper, the same ingredients would be better featured if  baked in individual sugar pumpkins that would require a shorter  cooking time, thus preventing the ingredients from breaking down as much.  Individual pumpkins would also ensure that each serving includes its own crusty top. Mr. Pom would like to try a layer of cornbread  instead of stale baguette, but I think the corn bread would just dissolve in the liquid and increase the  porridgy texture. I also used too heavy a hand with the nutmeg, but otherwise the seasoning was great.

 

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Other fillings that were suggested:

  • corn chowder or the obvious, pumpkin bisque
  • chili
  • a sort of chicken or turkey "pumpkin pot pie"
  • a baked macaroni, though I have my doubts it would be edible after several hours in the oven, so use small sugar pumpkins and par-bake them. 

Send me your suggestions and your attempts should you try this out.

In all, it was a perfect day to experiment with the types of recipes I toy with when imagining a holiday menu where there are no "traditions" requiring dried out turkey and jello molds.  A very satisfying culinary adventure for a wild, out-of-place snow Halloween weekend. Today, there is lentil soup and maybe meatball heroes (wedges in our neck of the woods), if I get the desire to make them but I am in the middle of a felted, beaded creation that sprang from my mind as soon as the snow began to fall.

But more about that later.  The sun is out and the snow is melting!

________

Post-edit: Tasted much better the next day, especially when heated, then run under the broiler. 


BTW

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In the midst of the Fall Festival of Frivolity, The Fiance was flying home from South Carolina and got delayed in Atlanta. He missed dinner, pumpkin decorating,  and the dessert table.

He brought home to The Princess a box of cupcakes from their favorite bakery.

 

WHAT DID HE BRING FOR HIMSELF???

 

 A DOCTORATE!!!!

Ph.D in astroparticle physics.

 

(DO NOT ASK ME WHAT THAT MEANS EXCEPT SOMETHING ABOUT NEUTRINOS (MAYBE) AND DARK MATTER (I THINK).)

 

NO MATTER

 

CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!


October Skies

 

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Blue as a bowl ringing in heaven, is today's October sky. Blue and brisk and breezy, and yellowy sun shining on blush red leaves and glorious chrysanthemums bursting into buttery bloom.

The pooches are frisky, hopping and spinning, especially the black one who spent her first night in a crate since the beginning of summer when we ruled it too hot for a black dog to endure, but now just perfect for a cozy pad and blanketed den. She runs into the yard, almost breaking down the back door, does her business, then hops in the air and spins and then spins back again. I think more of us should take up spinning, the feet on the ground not the butt in the bike kind. Like Sufi dancers we should greet a fall weekend designed for caramel apples, sugared cider donuts, and very dark coffee.

Last weekend was the Pomegranate Family Fall Festival of Fun. The children came from across the lands to be home with their parents. Food was the bribery. Backpacks and jackets littered the first floor.  Shoes were thrown under all the chairs. The curb was lined with cars. The washing machine spun in time with the dishwasher. Ipods competed for airtime.  Laptops fought for plugs and table space, and calls for food and drink filled the air.

 

 

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Preparations began early Saturday and the essential ingredients were sugar, flour, cornmeal, vanilla, pumpkin, and cinnamon:

 

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Mrs. Pom is so enjoying her new ovens and soon she will finally be enjoying a new range hood that doesn't sound like a jet fighter taking off  in the kitchen. Nor, she suspects, will it drip grease down the ugly backsplash when the light is kept on too long. Ah, progress. Of a sort after ten years.

 

 

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After all the cooking and baking and fussing, Mrs. Pom received a wonderful and surprising phone call from the next-in-line sister, who offered to host Thanksgiving this year. Now Mrs. Pom is the T house and that sister is the Christmas house, so this was a pleasant twist. Mrs. Pom knew that she must have intuited this somehow - why else all the traditional holiday baking so early in the fall?

 

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Just in case you thought we were all carbs and sugar ovah heah.

 

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Though Mrs. Pom's famous warm potato salad did make an appearance.

 

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Aren't Mr. Pom's ribs and chicken wings to die for? The man smelled like a chimney when he was done, but they were smoked just right.

 

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Micalangela, either taking a photo or pouring a drink, unclear, with sister M and Mystery Man. NO CHILD WANTED TO CARVE THE PUMPKINS, but I'll show you tomorrow our lazy pumpkin decorating with markers.

 

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Right now, I have to go see if there are any leftovers.

 

 


Art Is You..and You...and You

A terrific retreat that gets better every year.  Each year has a different feel but each year manages to build on the one before and surpass it with even more interesting classes, events, and friendships.

First off, our hostesses are the ones who are the face of Art Is.  I've been to other art retreats across the country and Art Is the one where you feel as though you have been invited to a big party to really swell hostesses who know how to make you feel welcome, well fed, and well entertained.

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This is the 5-year anniversary of Art Is. It started in a Starbucks with three of us poring over my blogroll and picking artists that we thought would be likely to come teach. A lot of teachers said no those first few years. We didn't have a track record and many people thought the east coast couldn't support a retreat. Now, artists are flooding Art Is with requests to teach and the selection of classes is extraordinary. 

 

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I made Sal and Ellen these mixed media canvases to celebrate their extraordinary achievement: In 5 years, Art Is went from a little local art retreat to being bi-coastal and in 2012 - intercontinental! This fall, the ladies took Art Is to Petaluma and next year to Sal's home, Australia. Gosh, I'd like to go but it's smack dab in the middle of wedding year and I will have lots to do.

 

 

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You may have noticed the Dr. Seuss aprons some of us are wearing. They were made by our very talented designer, Elizabeth Duke, shown here is a Seussian ensemble of her own design. When she's not making creative and whimsical gifts for her friends, she is teaching sewing and making bridal gowns.

 

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I'd be lying if I didn't say that my favorite part of the retreats are my own early morning workshops. Each year, we start the day with various art and writing prompts I call "HeArt Starters". Each year I wonder how I'll top myself the next, but we never run out of ideas. This year, we took to the walls and partnered up with someone we didn't know to people our own Seuss-A-Ville. I can't tell you the giggling and shrieks that went on when perfect strangers had to trace and draw each other.

 

 

Some of the girls took to it like ducks to water.

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I took a wood burning class with Kathy Nesi, (who has 2 pieces of art being shown in a gallery in the city this weekend!)  These are our poppy panels in various stages of completion:

 

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Here is Kathy modeling the apron that she won that we all had signed and  was raffled off to support Sarah's House, the charity of the event.  Lucky girl!

 

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The most important part of the day: Tom's Starbuck delivery!

 

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When Keith LoBue wasn't wearing his raffle prize, he was wearing a kilt.  Why have I not managed to take one of his classes yet??

 

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Ellen's gorgeous doll is actually the biography of her family. She made this during a time of incredible stress after her husband was in a very bad accident.

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The faces of friends and fellow artists are really all the decoration we needed, though we enjoy all the themed silliness, the flamingo races, and the treats.

 

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Happy Anniversary and hope to be around for Art Is...10!


Sunday Sonata

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VACILLATION

 

IV
My fiftieth year had come and gone,
I sat, a solitary man,
In a crowded London shop,
An open book and empty cup
On the marble table-top.
While on the shop and street I gazed
My body of a sudden blazed;
And twenty minutes more or less
It seemed, so great my happiness,
That I was blessed and could bless.

             . . .

 

-William Butler Yeats


Waving Madly

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But not stopping for long.

A tad busy these days with ...everything. Art Is was impossibly lovely. The event becomes larger and yet more personal for me each year.  It is a family reunion of sorts by now and I am just exhausted in that good way one is after a big event. I have SO many photos, both on my phone and in my camera, and not a moment to upload, but I promise I will get to it this weekend.

The work week began yesterday for me as I was at Art Is on Monday and with The Princess on Tuesday. She had surgery for a chronic sinus problem so it was an early day and a long day, but everything went very well and the doctor believes it will be quite successful. She's been sick every day for so long and we are all looking forward to her feeling well again.

I went to work yesterday but took off again today because she was still so under the weather. Poor baby. Not often that a 27 year old needs her mommy, especially The Princess, who is uber independent, so I am glad to be home with her. I'm under the weather right now myself, so a day off to bring her tea and just rest with her is delightful.

 

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Of course, whilst we rest, the canines are up to no good. They are 99.9% recovered from their bout with kennel cough and ready to par-tay. They've actually adapted remarkably to staying home all day with a dog walker at midday. Well, Bella Sera has and Cucciolo has done very well, but  after dinner, he resorts to his old puppy ways from sheer excess energy. Running around the dining room table after him last night as he chewed up a box of Chinese take out rice, I reflected on the fact that this used to be a daily occurrence but now we are all trained he is trained to resist to jumping on the counters or at least we are to not keeping food in his reach.

 

 

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I won't say more about them other than that they acting up today because I am home. Mr. Pom thinks we are turning into that couple who talk about their dogs all the time. Duh, I say. But I will be reticent and not share the fact that they clearly are more attached to me than to him and that they really think I am one of the pack, which means that they are happy to push me into the corner of the bed and then lay on top of me in case I decide to go anywhere.

 

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While you wait for me to upload the Art Is pics, I am just getting around to uploading some photos from our last Cape junket.This is the little paper store that's been around forever. It sells a few gifts, a few papers, a few magazines. Not sure how it stays in business but boy, it is a business I'd like to be in. Especially cause it is right across the parking lot from Sundae School and next to the pizzeria.

 

 

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Speaking of Cape Cod, as I always am, how many people think I could wear Anne Cramer's full-length Flynn this to The Princess's wedding? We are on the fence about it, fearing it is just a little too casual. I adore it. I am no longer shy about admitting that I am a nautical New England prepster at heart and I love navy over black and stripes over anything else. The Princess thinks it would be better for the rehearsal dinner, but since at last check they wanted to have it in a tent in the parking lot of the beach and serve onion rings from Liam's, I'm thinking I'd be a tad overdressed. I hope to hear from my two style icons, BB and Lisa for their takes.

 

 

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I also love it short in red but who am I kidding - I don't have the place to where it to or the legs to show it off.

 

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So I ordered this one to wear to a 50th birthday party in the city and plan to have the black tights and shoes, but top it with a turquoise satin shell. I'll let you know if it looks good. The back waistband is rolled, not flat, and I see trouble on that end if the skirt poofs out too much in the rear.

 

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Speaking of weddings, on our last day, it had poured rain from early morning, but at 4:00 the sun starting peeking through and we loaded up the pups into the car and went to the bay beach to get some air. We never expected to encounter a stretch Hummer limo next to the hamburger stand.

 

After we parked, we saw the wedding party and photographer on the beach.

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They were having so much fun taking the photos. I tried to get my own snap of them all jumping up into the air, which took the professional photographer about 5 takes, but I couldn't get it with my camera phone. Aren't they adorable? I love the navy blue gown and I would have so looked good in that blue and white striped dress if I'd been invited!

 

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And now to take a nap. All the kids will be home for the Fall Festival of Frivolity Pomegranate Weekend and I need to rest up. I ordered all the fixins' for waffles, bacon, stuffed shells, buffalo chicken wings, and Mr. Pom is tending to the ribs. I just need some pumpkins to carve. Tried to get tickets to The Great Pumpkin Blaze, but as usual every year, I wait too long and they are all sold out.

So we'll just have to recreate it ourselves on the front lawn and keep the fire extinguishers ready.

 

Happy end of the week. Hope to be back soon!


Candlelight and Chrysanthemums

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You all know that I am a summer person deep at heart. There is no other season that floods my soul with light and warmth as summer does. Summer is for living outside, for being by the water every moment possible, and for lazy hours rocking in a hammock with a book and an iced coffee.

This summer  I found myself completely disinterested in any form of cooking. Meals that were not grilled were bought. The kitchen grew dusty; the take out containers multiplied. Mr. Pom, however, did not panic. He didn't raise his eyebrows as our debit card melted for overuse or question why he could hear an echo in the refrigerator. For Mr. Pom has been with me for so many years that he knows that summer grazing is but a seasonal fancy.

And Autumn is for entertaining.

 

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He knows that once the temperatures drop and the pumpkins start appearing at the roadside stands, he will find me back in the kitchen on weekend afternoons, making a stew or homemade gravy for pasta or doing something sweet with apples.

But this year, this year, I couldn't catch the fall fever. Why bother? I whined. No one's here but us. Who is there to cook for? To make waffles for? To carve pumpkins with or trace leaves with or buy bags of candy corn for?

Then one afternoon I got over myself. I needed to cook something low and slow; I needed to use maple syrup in something; and I had to find a reason to buy at least 5 pumpkins at the store. My immediate family may be scattered everywhere from upstate to California, but there's plenty of family and friends right here.

The dining room gets cleaned. The old newspapers and Chinese take out menus gets trashed and the red wax from Christmas finally gets scraped off the candlesticks. Mr. Pom is dispatched to unearth the extra table leaves out from behind the mitten basket  in the hall closet. We open the antique oak table - gently - the legs have been known to fall off, and no one wants Mr. Pom to disappear for hours into the basement and hear drilling and sawing  and having dire predictions of doom float up the stairwell. 

 

 

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The old milk jug is dusted off  and filled with the first mums of the season. A linen cloth is ironed and draped on the table. A casserole of aucchini and yellow squash is served along with meatloaf, a meal that is autumn in my mind. At the last minute, we decide that it is just warm enough for one more dinner on the porch and the dishes are hastily moved outside and the fairy lights lit.

 

 

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Evening falls swiftly though, and with it we remember that nights of crickets and fireflies are over and twilights call for fireplaces and candles and dessert back in the dining room.  A few calls are made and the rest of the family, surprisingly, is free.  

 

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Assorted sisters and brothers in law, nephews and nieces, as well as the first pie of the season appears, along with ice cream and cookies and cupcakes and candy corn. (Why do so many good things begin with the letter "c"? )

 

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Bathing suits are also a thing of the past for another year at least, so there's no reason not to sample the red velvet cupcakes and the Halloween ones, the apple pie, the Twizzlers, the anginetti cookies, and the rugelach. Coffee cups are filled and refilled and the bowl of candy corn is passed round, while the dogs hide under the table to catch the pie crust crumbs.

 

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The next morning, the house is comfortably messy.  The long table is perfect for reading the Sunday papers.  What is better with coffee than cookies and what's better than a Sunday with only the two of us and nothing to do and nowhere to go and no family responsibilities to fulfill?

Besides, the young one has a college break coming up and I've declared that weekend Pomegranate Autumnal Festival and Early Halloween Decorating Event and texted all the kids who respond with equal parts enthusiasm and pity (or maybe mainly pity).

No matter. I know they'll eat waffles and bacon and don't for a minute think that they won't compete as to who can carve a cooler pumpkin. So long as I start all this around 1:00 in the afternoon and not at nine, it'll be a blast.

Until then, I'll content myself with listening to the shrieks of the new neighbor's little kids who moved up from the city and are discovering their first piles of leaves to jump in. I'll walk the dogs around the high school football field and give a cheer for New Ro to win. I'll look for conkers and sugar pine cones by the old cemetery and I'll have my fill of pumpkin spice coffee in place of Baskin Robbins pumpkin ice cream.

And just like that, I've flipped the season. And it's a good thing.

 


The Seasons Change and So Do I

From my bedroom window I can see the leaves of the three birches in front of the porch beginning to turn yellow. Not an overall startling change, but more like a paintbrush dabbing New Gamboge onto wet leaves, one by one. The leaves of the white magnolia at the foot of the driveway are just turning brown and crinkly. The whole tree is shaking right now as a grey squirrel jumps up and down a smaller branch, stuffing its cheeks with the berries on the tree.

Today, finally, the temperature is in the 60's and the air is thinner. What a soupy, wet mess of weeks we've had since Labor Day.  September sunshine was hazy and hot, not at all the crisp, clean sheen we've come to expect. Regardless, however, the season has announced itself and I have adorned the mantel with pumpkins and the dining room table with mums.

Up at the Cape, the striped bass are running and the mushrooms are ripe for picking, or so I learned from a parking lot full of Russians and one kayaking fisherman. The crowds are gone, the tide is high from Ophelia, and I can get as many of these as I want without waiting in line in Wellfleet for even a minute!

 

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Since it was breakfast, and eating one of these would probably send me to the hospital, I decided to chose one from the case below,  since the addition of fruit would make me feel virtuous. But what to choose? Ze apricot? Ze blueberry? The amazingly architectural strawberry or the gleaming like perfect fruit jewels pastry tart?

 

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Can you guess which one?

 

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Yes, zee blueber-rie taht avec creme de Chantilly.  Which quickly looked like this ( I saved the other half for after dinner so I didn't go into sugar shock):

 

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My word! The crust was incredibly light, crisp, and buttery! The blueberry compote was not cloying, and the cream, the cream! Now, I am no novice at whipping cream. Whipped cream is a staple on our holiday table, a staple that I learned to make at my mother's right arm. But this cream was no ordinary dump a carton of heavy cream, a cup of granulated sugar, and a teaspoon of vanilla into a mix master. This cream was rich, buttery, fatty, and sweet in a way that made me want to lie down in it and sleep.

And was followed by the best cappucino made by a Frenchman on this earth:

 

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The moral is:  visit the Cape off season.  No wait! Don't come! Stay home!

 

 

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We noticed that in the few weeks we were gone, the bakery had constructed a  new covered walkway. I expected to see a small bronze plaque reading,

"To the Pomegranates, who without their purchases of pain de lardon et fromage, this roof would not have been possible."

 

I even had time to have a lovely chat with the baker about the butter they use, which clearly is not from an American supermarket. In discussing breakfast choices, he told me in his adorable French accent that he prefer ze pea - nut but-tear koo - key for brek - fawst and I agreed that it was a good choice. Mr. Pom dragged me over the register to pay. I think he was afraid that I was about to run off with the French baker and spend the rest of my life mainlining French butter.

Patisseries redolent of butter, tarts glistening with cream, French roast coffee to die for, what more could a girl ask for on a very rainy and cold Cape weekend?

 

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How about a table full of loaves of almond meringue? ( Sorry for the horrible pic - Mr. Pom was dragging me out the door.) Be still my heart. I sneaked one up to the cash register after Mr. Pom made me put it back, told me I didn't need one. Who NEEDS meringue? No, I WANTED meringue - for The Fiance who loves it.

Of course, I had to taste it and see, after all, if it was as light and air and fresh tasting as the ones we make at Christmas. You see, I've never seen such a large loaf of meringue - why, it was the size of a football! I was curious as to how they could cook it through without the exterior even browning. I had to break into it...and oh, my word, it was filled with soft meringue, soft, sweet meringue......

Let's just say that I didn't need to be careful of the rest of it being crushed in the car on the way home....sorry Fiance, youll have to drive to Wellfleet to  get your own next weekend.

Tomorrow is Monday and I will be on the too much work to eat diet soon enough. And I'm not going near the scale unto Wednesday, at least.

Do you think it is too humid to make meringues tonight?