Our chaotic, but good-hearted friends, called late on Christmas Eve to invite us to dinner on Christmas Day. It was mentioned that they didn't have a plan for dessert. No obligation, of course, but if I thought of a solution it would be welcomed. Hmm?
Shops were closed up tight for the Holidays, so I was left to rummage through my cupboard and refrigerator for ideas. If I'd had more apples, I could have made an apple crumble, but I didn't.
I had an epiphany when I looked at the egg carton. I'd make meringues.
Beating egg-whites; folding in sugar; simple but sticky phases on the road to a pile of satiny, lightly colored clouds of sweetness.
What I had completely forgotten and was reminded by Lovely Daughter, who had graced us with her presence, was that each Halloween of her younger days, I had made a tradition of baking Blue-Meringues.
Last night's meringues were of a more natural hue. I made whipped cream and a Brandy Butter with a slight mandarin orange zest and some inclusions of little crumbles of Heath crunchy toffee bar.
Lest the sweetness be overpowering, all was served with a dab of mandarin marmalade on the side.
My brush with death
2 hours ago