A woman my age should know better, but momentarily I don't.
At the moment, is the days following my birthday, and knowing to eat better.
To eat better than chocolate for breakfast and dinner.
As one ages, one becomes more difficult to buy for. We tend to have simpler tastes, less need, more practicality, and certainly an aversion to collecting. My closet is full, the shoe shelf burdened and no one would dare to guess my tastes in purses. I don't wear perfume and use kitchen oils on my face.
There's no easy birthday present, except for the always dependable, can't-go-wrong gift of food.
Especially good chocolate.
So the immediate need to eat better begins with walking into a chocolate shop in Lyon France last June. The shop was grand, the selection immense, the temptation mouth watering. I was most intrigued by le chocolat cuisinier~~cooking chocolate.
Earlier that year, Tony had made a chocolate souffle with American chocolate. It was fluffy-divine, but its taste didn't come close to the intense and delectable tastes of French chocolate desserts. When I saw the plethora of cooking chocolate my palette came alive. We (Tony) could make real French souffles at home. We bought more than Tony thought wise.
Nonetheless, I brought home several bars of le chocolat cuisinier. I passed some out to my cooking friends and a food loving daughter who would discreetly use the chocolate. The bars were like gold. I saved two for Tony hoping he would make a souffle.
The year passed quickly. It was May and I eyed those two French chocolates yet to be used. I asked Tony to make a souffle for my birthday.
In Tony fashion he studied recipes, narrowed it down to one recipe, studied the recipe more, shopped for additional ingredients. Together we pulled out the gold bars and calculated the size of the impending souffle. The day arrived. Tony focused, poured, stirred, and watched with great pleasure as the souffles came to light and fluffy life in the oven. He'd made twelve little souffles for guests and one giant souffle for leftovers. I was dubious about leftover souffle, but Tony remembered different. As per experience, Tony was right.
The next day, I awoke to (in essence) chocolate eggs for breakfast. I dreamed about souffle as an after school snack.
The next morning, the souffle, two days past its creation, was even more delicious with 20 seconds in the microwave.
The souffle is now gone, but the gifted chocolates from Holland are still three boxes strong.
And I am not.
At the moment, is the days following my birthday, and knowing to eat better.
To eat better than chocolate for breakfast and dinner.
As one ages, one becomes more difficult to buy for. We tend to have simpler tastes, less need, more practicality, and certainly an aversion to collecting. My closet is full, the shoe shelf burdened and no one would dare to guess my tastes in purses. I don't wear perfume and use kitchen oils on my face.
There's no easy birthday present, except for the always dependable, can't-go-wrong gift of food.
Especially good chocolate.
So the immediate need to eat better begins with walking into a chocolate shop in Lyon France last June. The shop was grand, the selection immense, the temptation mouth watering. I was most intrigued by le chocolat cuisinier~~cooking chocolate.
Earlier that year, Tony had made a chocolate souffle with American chocolate. It was fluffy-divine, but its taste didn't come close to the intense and delectable tastes of French chocolate desserts. When I saw the plethora of cooking chocolate my palette came alive. We (Tony) could make real French souffles at home. We bought more than Tony thought wise.
Nonetheless, I brought home several bars of le chocolat cuisinier. I passed some out to my cooking friends and a food loving daughter who would discreetly use the chocolate. The bars were like gold. I saved two for Tony hoping he would make a souffle.
The year passed quickly. It was May and I eyed those two French chocolates yet to be used. I asked Tony to make a souffle for my birthday.
In Tony fashion he studied recipes, narrowed it down to one recipe, studied the recipe more, shopped for additional ingredients. Together we pulled out the gold bars and calculated the size of the impending souffle. The day arrived. Tony focused, poured, stirred, and watched with great pleasure as the souffles came to light and fluffy life in the oven. He'd made twelve little souffles for guests and one giant souffle for leftovers. I was dubious about leftover souffle, but Tony remembered different. As per experience, Tony was right.
The next day, I awoke to (in essence) chocolate eggs for breakfast. I dreamed about souffle as an after school snack.
The next morning, the souffle, two days past its creation, was even more delicious with 20 seconds in the microwave.
The souffle is now gone, but the gifted chocolates from Holland are still three boxes strong.
And I am not.
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