Hello, viewers.
I'm afraid I haven't been a very good blogger; since my blog no longer lets me post pictures, it somewhat lessened my enjoyment.
Tonight, viewers, I'm blogging simply to wish you joy. All of you.
That's one of the greatest things about Life, and about people. There's so much joy to be found, and people have such tremendous ability to find it, or create it, meanwhile striving ever onward toward a better, brighter future.
The dream of such a future is the greatest source of joy in my life. I wish this dream for all of you as well.
I hope something happens to each one of you today, that will brighten your day, and make you feel joy, if only for a moment.
I hope something makes you laugh, or your favourite song plays on the radio. I hope you see shapes in the clouds, or someone's smile brings an answering smile to your face.
Whatever small touch of Life makes your life seem better, I hope it happens.
My warmest regards,
- The Solemn Wood Nymph
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Another Year Older
Hello there, viewers. I hope you enjoyed my story (see previous post). It's all quite true of course; every word. I suppose you may have noticed that I referred to myself as a "human", once or twice, and, as you know, I am not a human, but a wood nymph. This was merely a ruse to blend in the human people. I didn't count on there being aliens.
Any road, my 21st year has come to a close.
Like most years, it had it's ups and downs, it's interesting, sad, lovely moments.
During this past year, I read 35 books, beginning with a facetious little novel called Evvie at Sixteen (Susan Pfeffer), and ended with All Creatures Great and Small (James Herriot), an autobiographical novel by a veterinarian who set up practice in Yorkshire. It was a very interesting read; I highly recommend it.
I watched 672 films (a year in the life of the chronically ill), beginning with Primeval Series 5, and ending with Shakespeare Re-Told: Much Ado About Nothing.
This year should be interesting. I bought a book called Drawing Your Life by Michael Nobbs, and another called The Happy Book both of which contain amusing prompts that encourage one to focus one's thoughts and energy on Life's simple joys. It's been fun so far.
I've also decided to sell handmade earrings this year. I've been making quite a lot of them lately; it's a pleasant alternative to Solitaire.
It began when five young girls of my acquaintance all graduated 8th grade at once. At that last minute, I got some new beads to add to my collection, and a pack of silver sea creature charms, and made them each a pair of summery earrings.
I was encouraged to make more and try to sell them, and so I shall. I've made well over 40 pairs already. I sold my first three the other day. I was pretty chuffed about it.
Well, here's to making the most of another year. Good morrow to thee, viewers. May the road rise up to meet you.
Any road, my 21st year has come to a close.
Like most years, it had it's ups and downs, it's interesting, sad, lovely moments.
During this past year, I read 35 books, beginning with a facetious little novel called Evvie at Sixteen (Susan Pfeffer), and ended with All Creatures Great and Small (James Herriot), an autobiographical novel by a veterinarian who set up practice in Yorkshire. It was a very interesting read; I highly recommend it.
I watched 672 films (a year in the life of the chronically ill), beginning with Primeval Series 5, and ending with Shakespeare Re-Told: Much Ado About Nothing.
This year should be interesting. I bought a book called Drawing Your Life by Michael Nobbs, and another called The Happy Book both of which contain amusing prompts that encourage one to focus one's thoughts and energy on Life's simple joys. It's been fun so far.
I've also decided to sell handmade earrings this year. I've been making quite a lot of them lately; it's a pleasant alternative to Solitaire.
It began when five young girls of my acquaintance all graduated 8th grade at once. At that last minute, I got some new beads to add to my collection, and a pack of silver sea creature charms, and made them each a pair of summery earrings.
I was encouraged to make more and try to sell them, and so I shall. I've made well over 40 pairs already. I sold my first three the other day. I was pretty chuffed about it.
Well, here's to making the most of another year. Good morrow to thee, viewers. May the road rise up to meet you.
Monday, June 2, 2014
Roses Are Made with Vanilla
Salutations, dear readers.
As I mentioned before, my vexatious blog is malfunctioning again, and is not allowing me to add pictures. Generally this puts me off of blogging; I find adding pictures is half the fun. Tonight, however, I feel like blogging, pictures or no. So, I shall tell you a story.
I sat quietly in the passenger seat of my mum's car, looking out at the night sky. I was going to attend some free seminar. What it was about, I had no idea, but it something to do, and it was free.
As we pulled in the parking lot, I received a text. It was from an acquaintance of mine-- Ben, and said:
'Hey. Jerry and I are here too. There's a coffee machine inside; they're giving away free coffee. Can you get us each one?'
I thought 'How did they know I was here...?' but I simply replied 'Sure'.
'Who was that?' my mum asked.
'It was Ben,' I replied. 'He and Jerry are here, and they said there's a coffee machine inside, and asked me to get them one.'
'Why don't they get their own coffee?' Mum asked.
I shrugged. I didn't really know or care; I was just pleased that I was about to have some coffee.
Once inside the building, Mum and I walked about until we found the coffee machine. It was, in fact, a Frappuccino machine, complete with soft-serve ice cream.
'Alright then, I'm going to go,' my mum said. 'Here's some money, in case you need it,' she said, putting some dollar bills and a few coins into my hands.
'Thanks, Mum,' I said, pocketing the money.
'Text if you need to,' Mum added.
'I will,' I replied, and waved as my mother left the building.
I made myself a Frappuccino, and two others for Ben and Jerry. Laden with frozen caffeinated beverages, I made my way down the hall to the theatre where the seminar was to be held. I looked about for the intended owners of two of the coffees which were freezing my arms, but found them nowhere. I shrugged, and found a seat near the stage on the left side of the room. The seats around me were empty, so I made use of the two nearest cup-holders to deposit the coffees in, and sat down to enjoy mine.
Eventually, the theatre darkened, the audience found their seats, and the curtain rose, revealing...what were they? I blinked up at the group of..."people" on the stage. They were sort of greenish, in a way, with features that weren't altogether human. They looked very anthropomorphic.
The one who approached the microphone was evidently their chairwoman. Chairwoman of what? Who knows. She was large, and stately, and had a very big face.
She began talking, but I didn't catch a word she said. She seemed to be talking about non-human matters, and I was busy trying to figure out what was going on, and what kind of seminar this was supposed to be.
'What are they?' I asked myself as I sipped my Frappuccino. 'Bug...creatures? Plant creatures? Yeah, they look plant-like; let's go with that.'
Having settled that, I recalled my attention to the plant-alien-chairwoman-thingy, who was still babbling a lot of random-sounding nonsense. I turned and looked around the room. At the back of the middle row of seats, I spotted Ben and Jerry. Regardless of the fact that a seminar was going on, I called out in a very loud stage whisper--
'Heeey! Ben! I got your coffeeees!'
I waved one of the coffees at him. He didn't hear me, apparently; he simply smiled and waved back at me.
'Oh well,' I thought. 'I'll give these to them afterwards.' I resumed my seat and turned back toward the stage. I vaguely wondered if anyone was vexed at me for disrupting...whatever was going on onstage, but a brief glance around the room showed me that no one seemed to have even noticed.
The chairwoman was inquiring in a stately, impressive voice whether anyone had any matters of concern to be addressed. I looked about the dark room. Most of the audience were human men in business attire, but there were a few among them who appeared to be of the plant-alien race.
Three of them rose and approached the stage; one male, one female, about the size of 10-year old children, and one tiny little one that trailed behind them. It was pink, and wore pink. It appeared to have wings, or maybe that was just its clothes.
'She's so pink,' I thought as I languidly sipped my coffee.
The two larger ones addressed the chairwoman in tones of deep concern--
'We're missing one of the four components of roses!' said one of them in its high, plant-alien voice. 'If we don't remember what it is, the roses of the world will cease to exist, and there will never be roses again! Here we have the first two components...'
'They make roses?' my thoughts interrupted.
'...and here's the fourth component-- vanilla,' it went on.
'Roses are made partly of vanilla?' I thought. 'Who knew? I sort of wish I'd payed attention to the first two "components" they mentioned.'
I shrugged. It didn't really matter. It wasn't as though I planned on making roses any time soon.
The chairwoman looked aghast. She looked at the little plant-aliens with eyes wide, or so they would have been, had not her eyelids been so large and drooping. She then looked out at the audience.
'This is terrible!" she resounded. 'Does anyone here know what the fourth component of roses is?'
There was a general shaking of heads and shrugging of shoulders from an audience of human beings, who, like me, hadn't realized that roses were made up of four components (one of them being vanilla), and created by a race of botanical extra-terrestrials.
'We must hold a conference amongst ourselves, and try to solve this,' she said, struggling to regain composure. 'There will be a brief intermission.'
She turned around with a sweep of...whatever it was she was wearing, and disappeared behind the curtain, followed closely by the rest of the plant-aliens.
'Okaaaay...' I thought.
I looked about the room. The lights were on, and I now had a better view of the audience. Ihe turned around and looked directly behind her. The entire section was empty, save one man, sitting a few rows back.
Chewing on my straw, I looked him over. He was smartly dressed, in a black vest, trousers, over-coat and a fedora pulled well over his face. He sat with his legs crossed, typing away on an iPhone.
'So...' I addressed him.
He looked up from his phone.
'What are you here for?' I enquired, without much enthusiasm.
'Ah dunno,' he replied with even less enthusiasm.
'Mm.'
After which exchange, I turned back around, and finished my coffee.
As I mentioned before, my vexatious blog is malfunctioning again, and is not allowing me to add pictures. Generally this puts me off of blogging; I find adding pictures is half the fun. Tonight, however, I feel like blogging, pictures or no. So, I shall tell you a story.
I sat quietly in the passenger seat of my mum's car, looking out at the night sky. I was going to attend some free seminar. What it was about, I had no idea, but it something to do, and it was free.
As we pulled in the parking lot, I received a text. It was from an acquaintance of mine-- Ben, and said:
'Hey. Jerry and I are here too. There's a coffee machine inside; they're giving away free coffee. Can you get us each one?'
I thought 'How did they know I was here...?' but I simply replied 'Sure'.
'Who was that?' my mum asked.
'It was Ben,' I replied. 'He and Jerry are here, and they said there's a coffee machine inside, and asked me to get them one.'
'Why don't they get their own coffee?' Mum asked.
I shrugged. I didn't really know or care; I was just pleased that I was about to have some coffee.
Once inside the building, Mum and I walked about until we found the coffee machine. It was, in fact, a Frappuccino machine, complete with soft-serve ice cream.
'Alright then, I'm going to go,' my mum said. 'Here's some money, in case you need it,' she said, putting some dollar bills and a few coins into my hands.
'Thanks, Mum,' I said, pocketing the money.
'Text if you need to,' Mum added.
'I will,' I replied, and waved as my mother left the building.
I made myself a Frappuccino, and two others for Ben and Jerry. Laden with frozen caffeinated beverages, I made my way down the hall to the theatre where the seminar was to be held. I looked about for the intended owners of two of the coffees which were freezing my arms, but found them nowhere. I shrugged, and found a seat near the stage on the left side of the room. The seats around me were empty, so I made use of the two nearest cup-holders to deposit the coffees in, and sat down to enjoy mine.
Eventually, the theatre darkened, the audience found their seats, and the curtain rose, revealing...what were they? I blinked up at the group of..."people" on the stage. They were sort of greenish, in a way, with features that weren't altogether human. They looked very anthropomorphic.
The one who approached the microphone was evidently their chairwoman. Chairwoman of what? Who knows. She was large, and stately, and had a very big face.
She began talking, but I didn't catch a word she said. She seemed to be talking about non-human matters, and I was busy trying to figure out what was going on, and what kind of seminar this was supposed to be.
'What are they?' I asked myself as I sipped my Frappuccino. 'Bug...creatures? Plant creatures? Yeah, they look plant-like; let's go with that.'
Having settled that, I recalled my attention to the plant-alien-chairwoman-thingy, who was still babbling a lot of random-sounding nonsense. I turned and looked around the room. At the back of the middle row of seats, I spotted Ben and Jerry. Regardless of the fact that a seminar was going on, I called out in a very loud stage whisper--
'Heeey! Ben! I got your coffeeees!'
I waved one of the coffees at him. He didn't hear me, apparently; he simply smiled and waved back at me.
'Oh well,' I thought. 'I'll give these to them afterwards.' I resumed my seat and turned back toward the stage. I vaguely wondered if anyone was vexed at me for disrupting...whatever was going on onstage, but a brief glance around the room showed me that no one seemed to have even noticed.
The chairwoman was inquiring in a stately, impressive voice whether anyone had any matters of concern to be addressed. I looked about the dark room. Most of the audience were human men in business attire, but there were a few among them who appeared to be of the plant-alien race.
Three of them rose and approached the stage; one male, one female, about the size of 10-year old children, and one tiny little one that trailed behind them. It was pink, and wore pink. It appeared to have wings, or maybe that was just its clothes.
'She's so pink,' I thought as I languidly sipped my coffee.
The two larger ones addressed the chairwoman in tones of deep concern--
'We're missing one of the four components of roses!' said one of them in its high, plant-alien voice. 'If we don't remember what it is, the roses of the world will cease to exist, and there will never be roses again! Here we have the first two components...'
'They make roses?' my thoughts interrupted.
'...and here's the fourth component-- vanilla,' it went on.
'Roses are made partly of vanilla?' I thought. 'Who knew? I sort of wish I'd payed attention to the first two "components" they mentioned.'
I shrugged. It didn't really matter. It wasn't as though I planned on making roses any time soon.
The chairwoman looked aghast. She looked at the little plant-aliens with eyes wide, or so they would have been, had not her eyelids been so large and drooping. She then looked out at the audience.
'This is terrible!" she resounded. 'Does anyone here know what the fourth component of roses is?'
There was a general shaking of heads and shrugging of shoulders from an audience of human beings, who, like me, hadn't realized that roses were made up of four components (one of them being vanilla), and created by a race of botanical extra-terrestrials.
'We must hold a conference amongst ourselves, and try to solve this,' she said, struggling to regain composure. 'There will be a brief intermission.'
She turned around with a sweep of...whatever it was she was wearing, and disappeared behind the curtain, followed closely by the rest of the plant-aliens.
'Okaaaay...' I thought.
I looked about the room. The lights were on, and I now had a better view of the audience. Ihe turned around and looked directly behind her. The entire section was empty, save one man, sitting a few rows back.
Chewing on my straw, I looked him over. He was smartly dressed, in a black vest, trousers, over-coat and a fedora pulled well over his face. He sat with his legs crossed, typing away on an iPhone.
'So...' I addressed him.
He looked up from his phone.
'What are you here for?' I enquired, without much enthusiasm.
'Ah dunno,' he replied with even less enthusiasm.
'Mm.'
After which exchange, I turned back around, and finished my coffee.
'Aw, my coffee's gone...' I thought sadly.
I rose from my seat with Ben and Jerry's cups in hand, walked to the back of the room, and stood before them, holding the half-melted beverages out to them.
'Here are your coffees,' I said.
The two men smiled, and held up the cups already in their hands.
'We couldn't find you, so we got our own coffees,' Ben replied.
'Oh, okay,' I said. To myself, I thought-- 'Well why didn't they do that in the first place; now I have two extra coffees. Oh, wait; that's not really a problem...'
I returned to my seat and began to work on my second Frappuccino.
At that moment, the chairwoman and co. came bursting forth from behind the curtain with a flourish.
'We have found the fourth component of the rose!' she cried joyfully.
We, the audience of humans, didn't quite know how to respond to this. A few of us clapped lightly. Everyone looked a bit puzzled over the whole business.
The tiny pink plant alien stepped in front of the stage.
'She's soo pink,' I thought. 'I like her shoes...'
Suddenly, Little Pink Shoes pressed a button, which filled the theatre with loud dance music.
'Let's party! she cried, in a remarkably high, squeaky little voice.
'Whaaaat...?' I thought.
She began to dance, and then all of the plant aliens, including the chairwoman, began to dance as well. A chorus line of plant-alien showgirls in shiny dresses appeared on the stage, and began to dance in a 1960's fashion.
'Where did they come from?' I wondered.
One after another, the human audience began to rise and dance. I blinked at the spectacle for a moment, and then rose to leave. As I was making my way up the aisle, Ben suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and seized my hand.
'Let's dance!' he shouted above the noise.
'Whaaaat...?' I thought again.
At that very moment, a random stranger with a moustache showed up on the other side of me, and grabbed my other hand.
'Let's dance!' he likewise suggested. (The reader will perhaps recall that I was the only human female in the room.)
'Who...?' I thought.
I didn't want to dance, I wanted to leave. I wondered how to extricate myself from this predicament, as the two gentlemen glared at each other over my head, and tugged on my arms. I glanced over to where I had been sitting.
'Oh no, I forgot my coffees!' I thought.
I was about to excuse myself on that pretext, when suddenly, the man with the fedora and iPhone loomed up behind me, grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me out of the grasp of Ben and Moustache-Man.
The End.
I rose from my seat with Ben and Jerry's cups in hand, walked to the back of the room, and stood before them, holding the half-melted beverages out to them.
'Here are your coffees,' I said.
The two men smiled, and held up the cups already in their hands.
'We couldn't find you, so we got our own coffees,' Ben replied.
'Oh, okay,' I said. To myself, I thought-- 'Well why didn't they do that in the first place; now I have two extra coffees. Oh, wait; that's not really a problem...'
I returned to my seat and began to work on my second Frappuccino.
At that moment, the chairwoman and co. came bursting forth from behind the curtain with a flourish.
'We have found the fourth component of the rose!' she cried joyfully.
We, the audience of humans, didn't quite know how to respond to this. A few of us clapped lightly. Everyone looked a bit puzzled over the whole business.
The tiny pink plant alien stepped in front of the stage.
'She's soo pink,' I thought. 'I like her shoes...'
Suddenly, Little Pink Shoes pressed a button, which filled the theatre with loud dance music.
'Let's party! she cried, in a remarkably high, squeaky little voice.
'Whaaaat...?' I thought.
She began to dance, and then all of the plant aliens, including the chairwoman, began to dance as well. A chorus line of plant-alien showgirls in shiny dresses appeared on the stage, and began to dance in a 1960's fashion.
'Where did they come from?' I wondered.
One after another, the human audience began to rise and dance. I blinked at the spectacle for a moment, and then rose to leave. As I was making my way up the aisle, Ben suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and seized my hand.
'Let's dance!' he shouted above the noise.
'Whaaaat...?' I thought again.
At that very moment, a random stranger with a moustache showed up on the other side of me, and grabbed my other hand.
'Let's dance!' he likewise suggested. (The reader will perhaps recall that I was the only human female in the room.)
'Who...?' I thought.
I didn't want to dance, I wanted to leave. I wondered how to extricate myself from this predicament, as the two gentlemen glared at each other over my head, and tugged on my arms. I glanced over to where I had been sitting.
'Oh no, I forgot my coffees!' I thought.
I was about to excuse myself on that pretext, when suddenly, the man with the fedora and iPhone loomed up behind me, grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me out of the grasp of Ben and Moustache-Man.
The End.
Monday, February 24, 2014
Technical Difficulties
Just a random side-note, viewers;
I've just noticed that my blog is having some sort of malfunction. Again.
This may possibly put something of a damper on my new resolution to blog more often.
We shall have to see how it goes.
In any case, I bid you all good morrow.
I've just noticed that my blog is having some sort of malfunction. Again.
This may possibly put something of a damper on my new resolution to blog more often.
We shall have to see how it goes.
In any case, I bid you all good morrow.
Boredom Alleviated by BBC's Sherlock
Good day, viewers.
It has been a very long time, once again. I'm afraid the life of a chronically-ill lady of leisure generally offers little interest with which to fill a blog post, so I've rather fallen out of the habit. I mean to rectify this, if I can.
As those of you have read my previous posts know, my sleeping habits are nocturnal more often than not, which further lends to the relative dullness of my life.
A few evenings ago, I was longing for something new to entertain me, and my wish was granted. My friend, who, in my blog is called Irene, informed me that she signed up for a free 1-month trial of Netflix, and gave me leave to use her account to watch movies online. I immediately took the opportunity to look up BBC's Sherlock, which I missed out on when it aired on the telly. Much to my gratification, it was available for viewing, and I finally got to experience the show for myself.
Now that I've viewed all three series, I've really become quite obsessed with it. It gripped me entirely within the first five minutes. The characters are witty, and hilarious, and the plot is remarkably stimulating. Indeed, I've suddenly started remembering potentially useless tidbits of random information I've acquired over the years, and I've unconsciously started trying to deduce people as they go by.
Watching the three existing series once was not enough, so I convinced my mum to watch them with me, and, happily for me, she's now as much obsessed with Sherlock as I am. We've agreed that I must purchase it as soon as possible.
Again, I offer thanks to Irene for her part in temporarily lessening the dullness of my current state. Since, in my idiosyncratic way, I must initially watch something I like half-a-dozen times at least, Sherlock should keep me entertained for some while. Long live BBC.
It has been a very long time, once again. I'm afraid the life of a chronically-ill lady of leisure generally offers little interest with which to fill a blog post, so I've rather fallen out of the habit. I mean to rectify this, if I can.
As those of you have read my previous posts know, my sleeping habits are nocturnal more often than not, which further lends to the relative dullness of my life.
A few evenings ago, I was longing for something new to entertain me, and my wish was granted. My friend, who, in my blog is called Irene, informed me that she signed up for a free 1-month trial of Netflix, and gave me leave to use her account to watch movies online. I immediately took the opportunity to look up BBC's Sherlock, which I missed out on when it aired on the telly. Much to my gratification, it was available for viewing, and I finally got to experience the show for myself.
Now that I've viewed all three series, I've really become quite obsessed with it. It gripped me entirely within the first five minutes. The characters are witty, and hilarious, and the plot is remarkably stimulating. Indeed, I've suddenly started remembering potentially useless tidbits of random information I've acquired over the years, and I've unconsciously started trying to deduce people as they go by.
Watching the three existing series once was not enough, so I convinced my mum to watch them with me, and, happily for me, she's now as much obsessed with Sherlock as I am. We've agreed that I must purchase it as soon as possible.
Again, I offer thanks to Irene for her part in temporarily lessening the dullness of my current state. Since, in my idiosyncratic way, I must initially watch something I like half-a-dozen times at least, Sherlock should keep me entertained for some while. Long live BBC.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Welsh Leek and Potato Soup
Hello, viewers.
I haven't blogged for quite a long time. Life has been...interesting. But enough of that; here is a delicious soup recipe for you.
Tip: Besides the parsley, I added a bit of chopped bacon, and some shredded cheese.
I haven't blogged for quite a long time. Life has been...interesting. But enough of that; here is a delicious soup recipe for you.
- 1 1/2 Tablespoons butter
- 3 or 4 leeks, sliced
- 1 2/3 pounds potatoes, peeled and chopped (if you're using red potatoes, which I recommend, peeling is optional)
- 1 onion, chopped
- 6 cups chicken stock
- 1 cup cream
- 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- salt and pepper to taste (I opted to leave out the salt)
- 3 Tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley
Tip: Besides the parsley, I added a bit of chopped bacon, and some shredded cheese.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Easy Tiramisu
Good evening, viewers
I would like to inform you all in advance, that the recipe I am about to present to you does not follow the classic, time-honoured instructions established for the preparation of tiramisu, so, for any baking-traditionalists who may be reading this, I offer most humble apologies.
This make-shift tiramisu was actually engendered by a cake gone awry. My mum and I are preparing to make a fancy cake for a friend of ours, and we were experimenting with different sizes of cake pans. One of the pans was too deep, and thus, the cake perforce cooked more slowly than it should have, and came out a bit brown about the edges. We pondered for a moment as to what we should do with this tall, dark and crusty cake, and then the answer came to us: Make tiramisu.
Arrange a layer of the cake pieces in a trifle dish, or deep glass baking pan. Using a small spoon, drizzle desired amounts of brandy and espresso over the cake layer (drizzle lightly, or the cake will become quite soggy). Spread 1/3 of the pudding admixture over the cake, add another layer of cake, and twice-repeat the afore-mentioned process. Spread the whipped topping over the assembled tiramisu, and use a flour sifter to administer the cocoa powder. Let chill 1-2 hours.
So, there you have it; a dessert with all the decadent richness of traditional tiramisu, and preparing it is but a trifle (pun intended).
I would like to inform you all in advance, that the recipe I am about to present to you does not follow the classic, time-honoured instructions established for the preparation of tiramisu, so, for any baking-traditionalists who may be reading this, I offer most humble apologies.
This make-shift tiramisu was actually engendered by a cake gone awry. My mum and I are preparing to make a fancy cake for a friend of ours, and we were experimenting with different sizes of cake pans. One of the pans was too deep, and thus, the cake perforce cooked more slowly than it should have, and came out a bit brown about the edges. We pondered for a moment as to what we should do with this tall, dark and crusty cake, and then the answer came to us: Make tiramisu.
- a prepared white cake (cook a bit longer than directed, or do as we did and bake it in a deep baking pan, until golden-brown)
- a 5 oz. box of vanilla instant pudding
- an 8 oz. container of mascarpone
- a few Tbs. of brandy
- a few Tbs. of brewed espresso
- a cup of whipped topping
- unsweetened cocoa powder for dusting
Arrange a layer of the cake pieces in a trifle dish, or deep glass baking pan. Using a small spoon, drizzle desired amounts of brandy and espresso over the cake layer (drizzle lightly, or the cake will become quite soggy). Spread 1/3 of the pudding admixture over the cake, add another layer of cake, and twice-repeat the afore-mentioned process. Spread the whipped topping over the assembled tiramisu, and use a flour sifter to administer the cocoa powder. Let chill 1-2 hours.
So, there you have it; a dessert with all the decadent richness of traditional tiramisu, and preparing it is but a trifle (pun intended).
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