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Gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins. And one should avoid the occasions of sin. As it happens, two occasions collided recently and tempted me to my downfall.
Let's talk about croissants, which I love and which I eat about once every ten years—that is, whenever I feel like making a batch. They are time-consuming (though not difficult) to make, and we simply do not need to be tempted by an ovenful of butter.
Because I am a snob of the first rank, I don't buy commercial croissants. Why eat a croissant that isn't spectacular? Several times friends have assured us that this or that bakery has the best in town, but we've never felt inclined to schlep ourselves all over town, buy a couple of rolls, and then try to keep them fresh for the next day's breakfast.
Because that's when you eat croissants. With your café au lait in the morning. And for the record, you don't fill them with chocolate or almond paste or anything at all. Nor do you slice them for sandwiches.
Recently a friend told me of a local bakery that sells frozen unbaked croissants. By sheer serendipity I found myself at the place, Ma Maison, soon after and bought six frozen croissants, just to try. I thawed and proofed two of them overnight as instructed and baked them at 6:30 the next morning. That's the first occasion of sin.
At least once each fall I make a pumpkin pie. In years past I've made one, plus a pecan pie, to take as the dessert for Thanksgiving dinner (the second Monday of October, here in Canada) at our son's house (deep-fried turkey, mashed potatoes with lashings of butter, a green dish, an orange dish, and lots of condiments). But this year our host purchased the pies for dinner. He actually bought four pies to feed seven adults and two children. That would be the gluttony gene at work.
But this was not the occasion of my sin. The boughten pumpkin pie was not like mine, so I felt that I hadn't had my true pumpkin fix for the year. The day after Thanksgiving I made my own pie, using a new pumpkin type, as dense and red-orange as a Kabocha squash. The morning was busy but I still managed to put together a butter-and-lard crust and chilled it until I got home mid-afternoon.
I pureed the baked squash, milk, eggs, hint of molasses, sugar, and those spices that are perfect in a pumpkin pie and perfectly horrible in coffee, tea, and wherever else they throw them in these days: ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice—plus a bit of freshly ground black pepper.
I let the pie cool as long as I could bear (about 20 minutes) before cutting my first piece. It was the apotheosis of pumpkin pie. So I took a second piece, only slightly smaller than the first.
Here is where the two occasions of sin merge: The next morning I jettisoned any thoughts of a healthy breakfast. In addition to our respective hot beverages (coffee for Dino, chocolate tea with hot milk for me) we each had a large slice of pumpkin pie and a big fat golden brown freshly baked croissant. It's not a breakfast for every day, but it was delicious. Obviously, I then spent the morning in mild gastric discomfort because no one needs to eat that much pumpkin pie in an 18-hour period. And certainly not with a croissant to round out the meal. Having paid for my sin with a temporary upset stomach, I eagerly await my next opportunity to commit the sin of gluttony.
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
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