While I was pitter-pattering around, immediately after falling out from under the blankets this morning, a few thoughts whizzed in and out.
2. FB spat out yesterday’s photos back onto my wall.
3. FB ate today’s photos.
4. Had an absolute blast at a Beer Tasting Dinner last night.
5. Snow? Really?
6. So excited for tomorrow’s Big Breakfast Adventure!
7. I do not drink beer.
8. PJs. All day.
Now that’s out of the way, let’s talk about pastries for a minute. It is Saturday, after all.
Up in North Ballard on a narrow, cozy side street, there’s a shop called Honore. In there you will find arguably the best pastries in Seattle. They have all kinds of tart going on in there. It’s quite a sight. And their pastry, let me tell you, is a wonder to behold.
Light, crisp and terribly messy. And that is how good pastry should be.
Add caramelized onions and Gruyere and boy, do you have a winner.
Buttery, melt-in-the-mouth, golden goodness.
Or, add rhubarb and custard. A combination which reminds me of two things. Roobarb and Custard, which, if you are not familiar with them, are an olive green dog & a fuchsia pink cat who enjoyed cult status in England in the ’70s; and bowls of poached rhubarb pieces served with lashings of Bird’s custard for dessert on a Sunday – also in the ’70’s. It seems rhubarb was quite prominent in the 70’s, at least in our household. I always liked rhubarb. I like how it was tart and bright pink and silky after having been gently braised for a while.
The custard in these tarts though, is fancy custard. Crème Pâtissière I expect. Egg yolks and sugar and milk teased into a silky smooth sauce that’s almost to think to pour.
I can never eat just one pastry when I go to Honore. I just don’t have the willpower.
I’m not complaining.