That was not the beginning of the day.
We started the day with Warm Apple Almond Pastry.
To make this, you make a frangipane of almonds, sugar, eggs, and flour. You spread this on puff paste, cover it with some sliced apples, and brush it with warm apricot jam.
A topping of strips of puff paste, 30 minutes in the oven, and you have a lovely pastry.
You may be thinking that this probably contains some saturated fat and simple carbohydrates, and you are right. I am cooking oats for today’s breakfast to make up for it.
We went to church after that, and sang “Every Time I Feel the Spirit.” #2 daughter was the guest conductor, and it was nice to see her waving her arms around. She does it with elegance and conviction, and several choir members actually watched her, whereas it sometimes seems to be a point of honor with them not to watch the director.
“Who does he think he is?” they seem to be saying. “I’ve been in this choir for 25 years, and I don’t intend to look at some jumped-up fellow waving his arms at me.”
Home, then, and we served Three Cheese Garden Pizza to our guest.
I didn’t make anyone listen to me talk while cooking, but our guest did sign up for a show, so I may be all right on the night, as they say.
Anyway, we were eating pizza and salad, and our guest was telling us about the boarder at her family’s home, or “The Felon,” as they fondly call him.
He had murdered two people.
After our guest had explained to us about the murders, #2 daughter told us about the recliner with the gun.
It did not contain a gun when they sold it, at the furniture store where she has her day job, but it was returned.
They put it on the sales floor, and a small child played around with it until he found a revolver tucked down the side of it.
His parents brought this to the attention of the salesperson, who called #2 daughter.
I didn’t really grasp why they called her. She is an executive assistant to the daughter of the owner or something like that. However, she was called in on The Mystery of the Missing Ottoman, and she was called in to deal with The Gun in the Recliner.
Nancy Drew springs to mind.
Ah, yes, the picture at the left is Truffle Cups, a confection composed entirely of chocolate, butter, sugar, and cream. #1 daughter explained to us her theory of why this sort of food is good for one.
They are on a white plate, and not floating in the air surrounded by an angelic radiance. That effect is the result of my poor photography.
Anyway, #2 daughter began with, “I understand that you’ve had a little trouble here.” I doubt that I could have done better.
Having read of Scriveling’s adventures in the public library and heard about our lunch guest’s adventures with The Felon, whom her father met at work, and #2 daughter’s firearms adventures, I am thinking that there is something odd about my job.
I have never had to deal with any violent crimes at all, or any weapons beyond children’s misuse of puppets. There is the issue of the people buying science equipment for their meth labs, but that is more a moral dilemma than an actual adventure.
We saw our guest off. The Doctor was expected, for a wine-related undertaking, but she did not arrive.
We lazed around a while, waiting for her, and then we had dinner. I made this Thai Chicken Stir-Fry, which is a sort of chicken salad with a surprising dressing. It was quite good. I added hot peppers, of course.
We had it with sticky rice and pineapple and something called Tiramisu Cake, which we found unconvincing.
It was, #2 daughter said, the first of the experimental dishes that she didn’t care for.
I got through my whole list of things I intended to make, except for the Avocado Salsa Cups, which I was planning to serve to The Doctor when she arrived.
She foiled this plan by not coming at all.
We watched Casanova and I knitted. Ivy’s right front is within a few inches of being finished.
Did I learn to talk while cooking? Maybe. #2 daughter assured me that I did better at it today than I did yesterday.