Plum and bourbon swirl ice cream

September 5, 2012 § 24 Comments

Hello dear friends.  How are you?!  It feels like an age since I’ve been here.  Maybe it has been an age.  I’ve lost all track of time as we’ve been in a blur of activity and change.

I meant to come back with a roar, with all sorts of things to say and stories to tell.  Instead, I think I’ll go for something more along the lines of a purr.  Roaring takes too much energy for the moment.  Shifts and adaptations, however positive, are tiring.  So is moving and unpacking boxes.  Sheesh.

But we are, in fact, wondrously unpacked.  We still have a small stack of boxes to attend to, and the art needs to be hung.  But, most of the important things (read: kitchen and dining room – and even the living room, actually) are set up and functioning.  We had the most amazing help.  I mean really, that’s part of why we wanted to be here.  The kindness and sense of community are palpable. « Read the rest of this entry »

Roasted plums with creme anglaise – If I had a thousand plums

August 16, 2010 § 2 Comments

One of my favorite children’s songs was about plums (another one was about baking pepperkakkor – I seem to have been food focused from a very early age).  It goes roughly like this (my apologies for making absolutely no attempts at rhyming in the translation):

“If you had a thousand plums, you could eat them all year long.  If you had a hole in your pocket, you could scratch yourself on the thigh.  I do not have a thousand plums, nor a hole in my pocket.  I have only good humor, and I can scratch myself when I itch.”

To my adult mind the song sounds pretty weird.  But as a child, there was something so appealing about the idea of having a secret hole in your pocket, and having an awesomely towering pile of perfectly juicy, midnight purple plums from which you could eat all that you wanted, the red juice trickling all down over your face and fingers.

This is a decadent time of year in the market, when the stone fruits are all ripe and fleshy and ridiculously luxurious (and messy!) to eat.  I love them all.  I love that you have to stand over a sink to eat a good stone fruit.  And don’t wear a white shirt.  But, I didn’t used to be so all-encompassing in my stone fruit love.  I used to be put-off by the fuzziness of peaches and apricots (what was wrong with me?!).  I liked nectarines, but they left strings in my teeth.  Plums, on the other hand, were my perfection.  They were sugary sweet, drippy-messy, and you could easily eat five in a sitting, provided that you hid the pits to conceal the evidence from your mother.  So, my love affair with plums has been a long one.  And seriously, could it be a coincidence that the word “plum” also means “good” or “highly desirable”?  I think not.

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