Ahhhhh…. Friday. Light-hearted pudding of delight and rosé-fingered dawn of the weekend. Or something like that. Mel is free now, but after my manifold and great struggles with blogger over the photos for the last post I'm not sure I am able to face another attempt.
Besides, I'm busy ordering a birthday cake. (We have an oven but no pans so baking isn't really an option.) French-style lemon tart with seasonal fruit, or orange-poppyseed with mascarpone cream? Or perhaps New York or marble cheesecake with crushed amaretti biscuit base? And can I just say that there are some damn fine bakeries and cake-shops in this city?
Which leaves me only to close with the immortal words of Marvell in To His Coy Mistress, a manly man's poet with nutritional interests that were far ahead of his time, "My vegetable love should grow/vaster than empires, and more slow." Perhaps after the cake.