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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