|"Likkered-up caramel buns"Add caption|
The past four or five days have just run together like protoplasm, apropos of nothing right now. Lately, I have had good things and awful things running around in my mind like those bumper cars at fairs, used to anyhow.
This baking of the Caramel Bun has undone me because it took all of my time and my energy. This I didn't like, yet if someone had deprived me of my slavery to this endeavor I would have fought them. I find that the last four days has sorely even impacted the hours I go to bed and the other day it was even 0722 due to the work it took for me to perform the necessary parts of this recipe. Of course Rose had warned us.
I have said that the past four days of attempting to complete this innocuous sounding caramel bun has been harrying for me to say the least. I didn't know how to do some required things, techniques, and that was frustrating. But finally, after midnight tonight I took one of these just-baked caramel buns that had been slathered with some sticking stuff, and I bit into a grape that obviously grew from a farm of booze, topped by a toasty nut. It is said that she, being me, had macerated a bunch of raisins for some five days in the blackest pirate rum that ever came across the seas. I now can also attest to that. Wow. I then began to realize what I was eating. The caramel was more than caramel and the bun was not-so mundane as suggested. And also, a catastrophe had arisen in that I only had one of these creations for me since I had promised those at work I would bring them some. It occurred to me now that I could cut them in half and the office staff would only think that was the true size. Oh well, after all there is one for my husband [if I don't get it first] and I have already had mine, so the staff must enjoy the size as they should.
These buns are indescribably, fabulously 'likkered-up things' - not really buns, of course. They are not from Heaven as we might know it, but they are more as if the devil had conspired with Lucifer himself, the same, to prevent a conscientious abstinence. Upon being descended upon by this thing, all the pains in my back from standing in the kitchen flew out the window along with other complaints and awareness of the need for sleep, thus restoring me as a devotee of Rose, and Woody once again. I even like him today - him with his infernal ruler. Even sleep-deprived, fearful of not succeeding, frustrated by doing things wrong, like the dough rolling, like the turns, all those malcontents went flying out the door, not just the window, and I almost began to look forward to the trellised 'sour cherry pi' as Marie calls it.
However, in my moment of sanity here and now, although it may not appear that way to others at present, I decide to get these infernal pictures posted in the morning because I am too likkered-up by the grapes and the caramel at the moment.
Finally, however, before I do lay my little head down to sleep, I have a moment of likker-inspired devilment and am inspired in that way to invite our criminologist, one Raymond, given our circumstances as Alphas and the work that we have just completed here, i.e. baking in kitchens, with counter equipment such as those used, if he would like to solve a small crime scene. This intervention will be an incident solving of 'Lost and Found' taking place in our presently completed scenario, wherein Lost will be an implement and what its purpose is, and Found will be where it was found and why it was there. There is no prize if he succeeds; just a loud guffaw at me.
And now, at this time, a late but happy ending, I would like to extend a profound thank you to our Maestros for this adagio, the amazing: "Likkered-up Caramel Bun".
|Cara studying with Stormy|