Egg Nog Amuse Bouche à la M. et Mme. Fellatio
Call Christmas chaotic with mailing out scores of Lifetime of Vermont People books, how much isn’t in my damned checkbook while I am mailing presents of champagne and salmon that I cannot afford but what the hell, O quam cito transit gloria mundi” which means “Here today and gone tomorrow and so enjoy those trifles and share with your friends.”
So we celebrated with a small eqg nog party in my Colbyville garret, My assistant Kyle, the sous chef and dish washer, aided in the creation.
First we dug out the old ironstone potty—scrubbed clean of course— and poured in a quart of Half and Half (why not?), a pint of light cream, a bunch of egg yolks…no we didn’t count…some of Burke family’s maple syrup as we do live in Vermont, cinnamon, nutmeg and a chug-a-lug of dark Jamaican rum and a tumbler of Cognac. Added our hand whirled whipped cream made with Madagascar vanilla and served the whipped egg nog in Mason jars. …Soooo smooooth!!! …Those Mason jars hold more than a potent jolt and that was our first mistake for the spirit of the season whooshed in and goosed us onto the freezing deck to send to the big dipper bursts from roman candles. After all, it is also the winter solstice and the days grow longer and warmer, right? Yeahhhhh, right. The devil and the oil industry took futures on the weather and they won their hedge.
Later, after dinner of baked salmon and endive salad I created my Christmas special amuse bouche dessert taught to me by my international friends the Fellatio’s.
There were some over-the-hill Harry and David pears my cousin from California sent that I cut up in a bowl and they bled out a glorious nectar. The egg nog was skimpy in the pot so we added in the pear ambrosia and then a scoop of a vanilla Häagen Dazs…and a little more Jamaican rum and why not a couple of fingers of cognac and some light cream. And the genius of it—a generous offering of Prosecco.
I had also bought a can of Cabot whipped cream and I instructed my guests on how to ingest this, errr, amuse bouche kick starter.
Take a gulp of egg nog-Häagen Dazs-pear Prosecco ambrosia but don’t swallow. Put the squirter on the top of Cabot whipped cream can between your lips open your mouth and press tip. (DON’T EVEN THINK WHAT YOU’RE THINKING! IMAGINE INSTEAD THOSE CHIPMUNKS OF SUMMER WHO SCAMPER FROM THE DECK INTO THE KITCHEN AND DIVE INTO THE BIRD FEED BAG, SCRABBLE AROUND AND THOSE CHIPPIES COME OUT CHEEKS ALL BALLOONED OUT AND PITTY PATY THROUGH THE HOUSE, SPITTING OUT FINCH BIRD SEED IN DRAWERS, POCKET OF JACKETS, IN BEDS, SHOES AND WHEREVER THEY CAN DEPOSIT SEEDS THAT THEY WILL NEVER FIND. IMAGINE THAT AND NOTHING ELSE. IT IS CHRISTMAS AND THE WINTER SOLSTICE. MONSIEUR AND MADAME FELLATIO ARE ON A FACT-FINDING MISSION TO ITALY AND STAYING IN THE HOTEL EXCELSIOR IN VENICE IN SUITE 666. A DO NOT DISTURB SIGN HANGS ON THE DOOR KNOB…HMMMMM.)
With this caveat, let us continue…
WHOOSH!, A MOUTHFUL OF WHIPPED CREAM SPURTS INTO THE MOUTH, MARRIES WITH THE EGGNOG AND PUFFS OUT YOUR CHEEKS. ROLL YOUR TONGUE AROUND, SAVOR AND SWALLOW…JUST HEAVENLY…HEAVENLY!
A memorable party, a delightful egg nog followed by fireworks, Scottish salmon, an endive salad and this palate tickler of a dessert:
…a mouthful of amuse bouche. It rates four
YUM! YUM! YUM! YUM!
and last but not least, some leftover fortune cookies, one that said
DON’T PUT IT OFF ANY LONGER!