It’s April already, Reader, and you’re welcome for me pointing out the month for you. Once less thing to clutter up your pretty little mind. I had an entire weekend with no hard responsibilities and I was able to roll around in and enjoy it completely and I loved it so hard.
Guess what else I’ve been loving so hard this weekend? Mind up here ~points to brain~ and not in my pants, sheesh, I’ve gotta constantly keep you from going right to my vagina area, Reader. Or maybe that’s only me, projecting onto you. Regardless, one of us went to the Dirty Parts and that’s not where I was headed when this paragraph began. What I’ve been loving this weekend are small bites of delights.
I early-birded it on April Fool’s, which is playing a trick on my own self. Made plans with HandyDan, who is a ridiculously natural earlybirdy. We decided on a little fresh market-ing, breakfasting and an impromptu trip to the animal shelter to smooch pups and pet kittens. Because I just don’t get enough of that at home with my
eight three cats.
So we marketed at 8 a.m. In the MORNING, Reader. On a SATURDAY. I mean, we were on the road by then. That’s a huge feat around Chez Bang Bang on the weekend. There’s a reason I don’t have babies or doggies – I am not a morning person. Cats are good and lazy most of the day, and we suit each other just fine.
But anyway, back to the market. We have an iconic indoor market in the city and I almost never go – I mean, almost never as in I’ve been there about twice in the past 12 years or more. That’s close to never. Growing up we went once a year, only at Christmas, so it’s always seemed like “special occasion only” shopping to me, and not some place I’d do my weekly shopping. It’s just in painted in my mind that way.
HandyDan and I walked in and right away I saw the Bratwurst stand where my dad always bought us a bratwurst with kraut when we would go on our yearly pilgrimage. Then I turned and on my left saw the booth that sells the fresh buttermilk, where my dad would get a glass of to wash his sandwich down, and I always thought, “eeeewwwww, who drinks a cuppa buttermilk!!!” Just a little past that was the stand that sells the fresh fruit fillings for pastry. My mama always bought her fillings from that stand for her kolachy’s for the holidays.
So some things really never do change.
It’s been 35+ years and it took me back to a wink in time, as a 10-year-old girl shopping in this strange cacophony once a year.
I bought a container of raspberry filling as a nod to my mama and I plan on making some sort of pastry creation with it soon.
But that wasn’t all I purchased, because if I’m up and shopping that damn early on a weekend, it will be worth my while.
Three flavors of smokies, short ribs, bison, Irish meat pies and Shepards pies, papayas, and bacon went into my bags.
And then we rounded the corner and stumbled across the Home of the Monk Cake, which was nothing I remembered from my childhood.
I hadn’t heard of a Monk Cake, but as my official duty to this blog and you, Reader, I determined it would be remiss of me not to explore this cake.
So one went in my bag. It’s still in it’s pretty box in the fridge. I’ll do my diligence and report my findings back to you.
I also purchased a Napoleon. Or two, it’s impolite to count, Reader.
And this teensy strawberry-chocolate mouse confection. Because look how pretty, Reader.
And I would have been a complete failure had I not tried their macaroons, which they touted as Authentic French Macaroons. I’ve been doing comparison research on macaroons since I had the very best one I’ve ever put in my mouth on the island of Saint-Martin, which is actually a French-sided island and therefore really are authentic French macaroons.
The verdict on the macaroons? Well, they were much more buttery and delightful than the ones I purchased in New York, but not quite as delicious as the ones from the island.
So yes, Reader, I’ve been very busy and buried in research this weekend.
What have you been researching with your mouth lately, Reader? Share it.
I’ve got more to tell, but it’s your turn, and plus I need to find out what the what Negan is up to on the season finale of Walking Dead right now. And digest all that buttery goodness from my dessert-a-thon.