Monday, April 9, 2012

The Weekend Gets Its Due

Hey Weekend,

Remember how you were pretty great?  Remember you started after a week where I put in double digit running numbers for the first time in, er, a while?  Remember how on Saturday we spent the day with Annie, walking leisurely around Greenwich village and  eating the best hamburgers in the city in the most attractive restaurant I've ever been in (everyone: the waitstaff, all the customers, everyone)?  And remember the Milk Bar and the cereal milk soft serve and compost cookie?  Remember how even though I was pretty tired and ready to call it a night at 4:00 pm, you were all, hey, let's go to the UES for a Seder?  I was all, really?  And you were all, Yeah.  And I was all, okay, I've already made the dessert*.

Remember we had a rough couple of hours on the way home, when it was 11:00 pm and we waited for 30 minutes for the 4 train?  And remember how I forgot Edie's socks, and she was just wearing her patent leather mary janes with pajamas rather than be completely barefoot?  Remember that?  Not your finest hour.

Remember how we had friends over for church?  And ham and potatoes and brussel sprouts and salad and rolls and two kinds of pie?  Remember the pie?

Well done, weekend.  Well done.

*So, the key to a good Passover dessert is to pretty much skip it.  Just enjoy your meal and move on.  Passover desserts are notoriously terrible, I suppose because of the leavening, or lack thereof.  Every year of my childhood, on the way to Aunt Esther's for the Seder dinner, we'd develop a plan of action.  My brother James would commit to avoid the "cakes".  My sisters and I would remind him of past years' mistakes.  Stick to the Strawberries would be our cry.  And every year, after dessert, I'd see James, a dessert plate with a piece of cake, one lone bite taken from it.  
My assignment was dessert this year, so I avoided the flourless chocolate tortes I found recipes for and stuck to proven winners: fudge, macaroons, and strawberries.  
Dessert success.  

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