We’re staying home again this year, just the two of us. My side of the family is driving deep into the Wisconsin countryside for a dinner “with all the trimmings” at a well-known restaurant. We’ve opted out so that I can spend some time in the kitchen.
(You may be asking why I do not invite the family for dinner. The truth is, my house is a disaster. It may be time to hire a cleaning service. But I’d need two weeks of prep time just to let them in the door.)
Besides I want to spend the day without a timetable. Who knows when we’ll eat?
I’ll make one of our traditional favorites, and then putter around with some sort of dessert.
There is something very appealing to me about the prospect of measuring and stirring and blending in my warm little kitchen, with the setting sun pouring in from the lone western window, or with the northern sky over the horse barn darkening to a deep gray.
(I like the idea of something sweet and booze-laced this time of year. I blame it all on my days in advertising, when it was my job to create the copy for a small bakery owned by a San Francisco woman who made cheesecake. Pumpkin and brandy. Pecan and bourbon. Chocolate and cognac. I was woozy by the time I finished the first paragraph.)
This year, I’ve been inspired by a new chef in town, and while he has not shared his special recipe with me, I’m daring and foolish enough to try to replicate it, with a little help from the Internet. Maybe.
I’m tempted to try David Lebovitz’ chocolate cherry fruitcake,
or maybe a classic crème brulée, which my husband dearly loves and which he ordered last May on our first night in Paris. Or, profiteroles (from the same café) or a classic pumpkin pie. Or, pumpkin roll, as I did one year.
Whatever it turns out to be, I won’t even attempt it until after dinner.
What’s on your dessert menu?