{"id":1460,"date":"2007-06-26T02:29:00","date_gmt":"2007-06-26T02:29:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2007\/06\/26\/rosier-by-the-second"},"modified":"2007-06-26T02:29:00","modified_gmt":"2007-06-26T02:29:00","slug":"rosier-by-the-second","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2007\/06\/rosier-by-the-second\/","title":{"rendered":"Rosier by the second"},"content":{"rendered":"
I swear, I just don\u2019t know where the days go. I wake up one morning, and it\u2019s Monday. Then, within what I know<\/i> was only ten minutes, shazam!<\/i>, it\u2019s Sunday already. It makes me wish there were some sort of Bureau of Missing Days, or something like that. Wherever my time went, I\u2019d like it back immediately. I had plans for it, and awfully good ones too, involving strawberries and waffles<\/a> and soup and roasted pork, and the sweet, spindly carrots in the crisper drawer. Thank goodness for a new week. All ten minutes of it, anyway. I get to have another go.<\/p>\n Which explains why, this morning, before I had so much as shrugged in the direction of the shower, I fired up the oven and baked a cake. When opportunity peeks its head in the door, you don\u2019t ask it to come back later, after you\u2019ve had a chance to wash your hair. You grab it with an oven mitt and shove it in the oven. You don\u2019t mess around. Especially when there\u2019s a bowl of ripe apricots on the table, getting rosier by the second. A week is best begun, I would argue, with the whirr of the mixer, the gentle slap-slap-slap<\/span> of butter and sugar becoming batter.<\/p>\n The results were quite delicious, especially after a shower and a lunch of blanched snap peas, thick slices of fresh mozzarella with olive oil and salt, and a goodly hunk of olive fougasse<\/span>. It didn\u2019t hurt, too, that it made the house smell wholesome and sweet. My mother is coming to town tomorrow for a few days of wedding errands, and our little home – huddled lately under a siege of to-do lists, RSVP cards, and other wedding paperwork – needed some spiff and shine. A freshly baked cake made a fine air freshener, right up there with the bundle of fresh flowers on the kitchen table. Later, of course, there will also be some sweeping, some scrubbing, and some vacuuming, and some more cake. And then, shazam!<\/i>, it will be Sunday.<\/p>\n Have a great week, friends.<\/p>\n<\/a>
Apricot season has barely begun around here, but I saw a few lovely specimens at the Phinney farmers\u2019 market<\/a> on Friday, and they begged me to buy them. They didn\u2019t yet have the grandeur of their later-season brethren, fat and filled to the brim with juice, but they were fragrant enough, with faintly rouged cheeks. I bought a half-dozen, planning to eat them on the spot, but then a bushel of Rainier cherries caught my eye, and everybody knows that<\/span>\u2019s the best thing to munch while strolling the market aisles, and in the end, it was just as well. Apricots, I find, are a fickle little fruit. They\u2019re stupendously good every now and then – Frog Hollow Farm<\/a>, I\u2019m looking at you – but otherwise, they\u2019re only so-so. Where they\u2019re at their best, I find, is in the oven. There, even a mediocre apricot opens up and blooms, releasing all sorts of sweetness and syrupy juice. So unless I know for certain that I\u2019ve got a real winner, the sort that drips all over when you take a bite, better to steer it into the oven. Preferably atop a dense, buttery cake scented with ground almonds. Which is exactly what I did this morning, in my bathrobe and unwashed hair.<\/p>\n