So yes I’m on vacation but I drove 100 miles home yesterday anyway, for two meetings, one to be held at my house at 6:30 and another to be held at somebody else’s house at 8:00, both for the sake of this organization of which I am currently the president.
I scored some pizza and salad to serve to the people coming at 6:30 and while they ate, drank and talked I slipped into the kitchen to prepare the food I had offered to make for the second meeting at 8:00: a plate of fresh sliced peaches and two small bowls of luscious jewel-toned raspberries, with, I had promised, fresh whipped cream on top.
It was no problem arranging the peaches on a pretty plate.
And let’s face it there’s not much you can do to a raspberry to make them any more perfect..
Like these perfect rubilous orbs resting on somebody’s windowsill.
So all that was left was to whip the heavy cream… BUT ! I should maybe add that I had also driven into the city at 4:00 to see my doctor and had also stopped at the wine store to buy a nice Chardonnay, so I was pretty wilted by the time I got home at 6:20, mere minutes before my guests would arrive.
I bolted up the stairs and changed quick into this navy dress with white polka-dots that I’ve owned since the mid 1990s, fluffed up my already fluffy hair…
…and went down to whip the cream.
But they were already here, all those guests! And I couldn’t find one of the beaters for my hand-held mixer! And I HADN’T chilled the metal bowl the way you’re supposed to do when you whip cream! So I dumped all 16 ounces of that pale velvety butter-fat into my blender and pressed ‘Puree.’
It looked pretty good, actually, but it needed just a little more whipping. Plus, I noticed, it had stopped churning and most of the already-thickened cream was stuck to the sides.
So I did what you’re never ever supposed to do: I opened the lid as it churned on and inserted the tip of a soup spoon to oh-so carefully liberate the cream from the glass sides – with the result that the blades hit the spoon, which SHOT out of my hand and up in the air while at the same time showering three cabinets and the whole of my dress with tiny white dots.
I came out onto the porch with the drinks a few minutes later.
“There was a small explosion in the kitchen,” I said.
My guests looked over. “At least you’ve got the right dress on” they said and went back to their socializing.The lesson I took from all this? what happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen. Just keep bringin’ on the food. 🙂