Dancing

The count down has begun.  Only 6 days to our next Tasting Party!  Six days of crust baking, candy making, bread baking, ice cream making, biscotti baking, curd making, and cake baking.  Blissful, intoxicating smells of coffee, chocolate, peanuts, hazelnuts, pistachios, walnuts, cherries, pecans, oranges, lemons, limes, apricots, raspberries, lavender, and of course, more chocolate.

And ​I play music, sing and dance my way around the kitchen.

Everyday several things are checked off the list.  Tart crust.  Ice cream.  Gelato.  Nougat.  Caramels.  Granola.  Crepes.  Shortbread.  Monday this.  Tuesday that.  Wednesday and Thursday this and that.  Until Friday.

All the while, the music and singing and dancing continue.  

Friday I kick it in to high gear and finish all the last minute things that can only be made, well, at the last minute.    And not only does it all have to taste sigh-inducing amazing, but it has to look tantalizingly perfect, too.  That's when I have to take a deep breath and tell myself to calm down.  No more singing.  No more dancing.  Just pure concentration adorned with love.

And I work like mad!

Until 6:30 p.m. Saturday night.  

That's when you come in, and my endeavors make your face smile and your taste buds dance.  Hopefully.  

For me, that's the crowning touch.  Because, even though I completely bask in the entire process, from purchasing materials to decorating the finished product, your "Ahhh" makes my heart dance.  

And who knows, some fancy footwork might even ensue.  

​Chocolate, Cherry and Walnut Cake

Simple pleasures

I love coffee.  Ask anyone.  

I carry a mug of my favorite joe with me.  Everywhere.  And not one of those travel ones, or a refillable one, made of metal or plastic with a nasty tasting plastic lid, but a real ceramic mug, open at the top, ready to douse me at the next sudden vehicular move.  

And when heat finally arrives in Minnesota, which this year seems to be taking it's sweet time, I don't give up my beloved beverage.  Oh, no.  I just put it on ice.  Lots of ice.  The mug might be exchanged for a Ball jar, but the drink will be the same.  Plain, black coffee.  

Like all things pursued and sifted, I've developed favorites.  Gevalia, now they know how to make coffee.  Or at least they know how to buy coffee from the growers, process it, and ship it around the globe.  And morning after morning that first sip is the best.  I've likened it to the first trip on crack, but my son assures me it's unlikely to be quite the same.  And though coffee is addicting for some, I am merely devoted and therefore able to give it up anytime.

Except for the minor fact that I like to be awake.

Don't get me wrong.  I will drink anything called coffee, even, gasp, decaf.  My one exception is instant.  I've never found one, since my very first cup of brew, that could even slightly measure up.  Occasionally I'll try a new one, brimming with hope, but I am bereaved yet again.  

According to a dear friend, this makes me a coffee snob.

So, jacked up with nose and mug in the air, I'm on the search for new ideas to add to our menu and prep for our next Tasting Party, scheduled, by the way, for Saturday, May 4th from 7-9 p.m.  Primarily I'm foraging for new and different, like our newCinnamon Horchata andCoconut Horchata, or an item not readily available, like candied persimmons, or an unusual presentation, like carrot cake in a cheesecake, or Tiramisu in a crepe.  

And beside coffee, there are other foods I find delectable  - chocolate and ice cream ranking in the top five.  And summer is coming.  Ice cold drinks and trips to the lake and sprinklers in the yard.  And ice cream.  Wait.  Wait.  Here it comes.  

Chocolate-covered Espresso Bean Chocolate Coffee Ice Cream!  

If you don't hear from me again you can assume that I've died and gone to heaven.  

​Chocolate-covered Espresso Bean Chocolate Coffee Ice Cream

But what if it is?

Here it is, the old adage quoted so many times by my father, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."​

But what if it is?  ​

I take my caramel-making seriously.  I have to.  They are by far our best seller.  Even among those who taste only, perhaps because they are without purchasing power, caramels are at the top of the ranks.  So my tools for the process are important.  I have to be able to trust them to make a perfect product every time.  

I also believe that new is not better and old is not useless.  Many of my possessions are older than I am, and some even from more than a century ago.  That being said, I have used the candy thermometer for making caramels that was handed down to me by my mother, from her mother, every since I left home.  ​I still have the original box it came in.  

​You can see this coming.

It broke.​  

Not open completely, but the glass protection around the interior mercury cylinder cracked.  And no, you can breathe a sign of relief, it wasn't in the caramels when it happened.  

Now ensues a search and rescue mission, for a new thermometer.  I'm not sure I can trust new, but then what choice do I have.  I'm certainly not going to stick my finger in the caramel and see if it's hot enough, not at 245 degrees, I'm not.  I like my fingers, thank you very much.  

​So trust takes time and I wonder how much time, how many batches will it take to make this new thermometer into an old one.

Immediately I harken back to my childhood and that of my children to the wisdom of the Skin Horse.  Do you remember his words to the rabbit on how to be real?

"It (won't) happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”  The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams

​I suppose that means I'll have to love it real.  Hmmm, we could be in for some serious time standing over the stove to make this happen.  You wouldn't happen to have a hankering for some caramels, would you?