Last Saturday I was actually starting to feel like baking something festive, y’know, try out that new yarn ball cake pan at last (I’d been avoiding the calories), or make some caramel sauce like my mom always made this time of year and all the possibilities of what I might do with it. Mom always poured it on homemade figgy pudding, but what if I lined my new silicone mini-cupcake molds with chocolate (so they could pop right out after cooling), poured in some cooled sauce, added ganache and chilled it with a raspberry on top…
The oven mitt stockings that a friend laughed and called “The most 2020 thing yet!” came down from the mantle.
The doorbell rang. It was a Christmas present order both for me and for the sake of the local bakery that my kids remember fondly and want to have still be in business when they come back into town.
The youngest on the phone later: Was it from…? Me: Yes. Him: Oh good!
I do believe that was the owner of the bakery himself, masked and handing it to me from arm’s length. He retreated down the walkway and turned: clearly he was hoping to see the look on my face when I opened the box and saw what they’d created. He definitely got what he’d hoped for–my jaw dropped. I looked back up his way and went, Wow!! THANK you!!
He drove off with the biggest smile on his face.
When there are that many calories hanging over you you don’t go making competing ones.
The photo doesn’t quite get the height and depth of the thing. The box stretched across the fridge. It was huge–and very good.
My sweetie enjoyed it for breakfast these past five days; I’m not a big breakfast person and couldn’t bring myself to touch all that sweetness before eleven a.m. but I sure did then. We had it for dessert a few nights. Snacking happened.
Finally, somewhat reluctantly, we watched the last morsels disappear after lunch today. It was time.
I found this recipe tonight and thought, someone was thinking like I was thinking. Maybe I should stuff those chocolate shells-to-be with whipped ricotta instead? Y’know, fewer calories?
Nah. I still want some of Mom’s caramel sauce.
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