Dinner club tomorrow and this month we are off to Italy.  I know what I am wearing, it is a beautiful Laura Ashley that I bought twenty some odd years ago, very chic with the look of a peasant, if that’s at all possible?  But I’m worried about my husband, his suggestions went something like this,

“I could go carrying a bowl of mousse with hot dogs floating in it and be Muss-o-Weenie.”

I have to keep reminding him that although we do dress for the occasion it is not fancy dress.  Not to mention that I really want us to match, you know, look fetching as a couple!  Perhaps a straw boater, or a gondolier pole??

Tonight I was in a cooking frenzy because tomorrow we are moving my son so preparation time is at a premium; we’re leaving the risotto to virtually as we’re walking out the door.  So, tonight I made biscotti to go with the Zabaglione.  Just as I was finishing, Malia texted me that she was going to be performing in a big number in her show as the understudy, tonight only, dress rehearsal!  I got in the car with my other daughter.  I smelled deliciously of biscotti.  We beetled to college and actually recorded her on my little still camera that I didn’t even know had the capability to film moving pictures.  Malia is watching herself next door as I write!

When I got home I made a toasted cheese sandwich for hubby and me, replacing the sweet smell of biscotti with the pungent smell of onion.

Then I started on the Zabaglione.  Twelve eggs, 2/3 cup of sugar and 1 1/2 cups of madiera, with a drop of vanilla, a squeeze of lemon, and a touch of cinnamon.  Whisked into a frenzy of froth and tripled in size I served hubby two tablespoons with a biscotti to give him a taste of tomorrow’s feast.  I added double cream to the mixture once it had cooled and poured it into a dozen champagne glasses.  It now awaits consumption in my fridge.

Then I saw the dozen egg whites languishing in a corner.  I whipped them up into a white cloud, added sugar for gloss and plopped two dozen spoonfuls onto baking sheets to go in the oven.  On consulting the cookbook for temperature and timing I realised,

“These take a long time to cook!”  Three to four hours to be exact.  I glanced at the clock. It was 10pm.  Malia, who’s curfew is midnight has beaten me to bed.

It is 1230 am.  What am I to do?

I suppose I’ll set my alarm and release the meringues, white and glossy, at 130 or so.


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