You’ll be happy to know I’m over my penis envy for the time being. Every once in awhile it rears its ugly head, and I just have to talk about it, ju know?
Go ahead, laugh. You know you want to.
And now we’re moving, we’re moving, we’re walking….
So you know I’m on vacation right now and I have had some time on my hands. I’ve been enjoying myself immensely. In addition to planting myself on the couch to watch the whole first season of True Blood and sometimes drinking beer in the middle of the day, I’ve also gotten in the habit of stopping by the market after dropping littleb at pre-school.
I’ve always wanted to be that French girl. You know. The one with the striped nautical shirt with the bateau neckline and the white pedal pushers? The one on the bike? The bike with the basket on the front? The basket that contains a loaf of French bread and a bouquet of fresh flowers? Except I can never be that French girl because, Monsieur, Madames, pardonnez, mais oui, my accent sucks. AND I don’t own a bike AND bateau necklines and horizontal stripes are not a good look on me. But, just for these two weeks, I thought to myself, I can be a modified French girl and wear my stretchy blue yoga pants to the Whole Foods and buy good things to eat.
One day last week, I bought a Bosc Pear, a small loaf of french bread, and a nice blue cheese recommended by the cheese person to go with the pear. For two days, I ate that for lunch. It was great. The memory of that meal must have left a deep imprint because I woke up this morning and had an epiphany.
I know. Epiphany almost sounds like penis envy, doesn’t it? But we are not talking about that today, so. Focus.
Anyway, I had an epiphany, based on the pear/cheese/bread meal, and this is what it was:
CHICKEN’S 3AM EPIPHANY: If you have cheese, bread and fruit, you have all the makings for beautiful canapes right at your fingertips. Just in case the President or First Lady should drop by. Or the Queen or the Prime Minister or Prince or Lady Gaga. (If it is Prince, he’s not going to eat your beautiful Canapes though, so don’t even bother. I’m sure his bodyguard will supply his meals. His bodyguard probably is his meal. I wish he would just eat Lady Gaga.)
To prove my theory, I went back to Whole Foods this morning and purchased the following fruits:
A small wedge of each of the following cheeses:
St. Andre (a triple cream brie)
St Agur (a french blue)
Humboldt Fog (a California artisanal goat cheese)
And the following “bread” bases:
I started with the pizza dough. I rolled and cut out some very small rounds and sprinkled them with various toppings. On the first, I used cinammon and sugar. On the others I tried some herbs de provence, sea salt, and garlic salt. I fried them in a bit of olive oil. I spread some of the brie in the middle of the cinnamon/sugar piece and pinned it together, like a mini cannoli, with a raspberry on top. The others had cooled too quickly to follow the same idea, so I topped them with the other cheeses and fruits. My favorite combination was the herbs de provence round, split in half, filled with the humboldt fog, and topped with a strawberry. This is what the pizza dough canapes looked like:
If I did these again, I would either make the rounds a bit smaller to provide just a mouthful, or shape them quickly into the cannoli right after frying.
And there you have today’s great adventure. Now I need to go clean it up because my entire kitchen pretty much looks like this:
By the way, I was wearing the loincloth when I made these. Just kidding.
One more thing before you race off to the next blog. Yes, I see you Ms. Bloggy Ho Twitchy Finger.
I know I am forever telling you guys about my rockstar fantasy, but last night we realized it runs through the bloodlines:
He just may turn out to be my greatest hope of ever meeting Bruce. He’s getting a set of drums for his birthday. Not only does he have raw talent, he’s got a great stage look.