In the Kitchen at Blackrock

Our kitchen is a multi-purpose room. We cook and bake in there, of course, but you just never know exactly WHAT is cooking or baking. If something is on the stove, it could be a saucepan of nasty chicken skin boiling for the dogs or a big pot of water heating to hand wash wool sweaters. And if something is in the oven, there's no guarantee that it's for human consumption. Like this, which I baked yesterday:

Any guesses?

Despite the resemblance to crushed Oreos (mmm, Oreos . . .), you wouldn't want to try eating that. It's potting soil. I baked it for sterilization purposes, to make sure there are no evil cutworms in there that will spring forth and attack my fragile seedlings, as was my sad experience last year.

Now A., on the other hand, managed to produce something entirely edible yesterday. Not only edible, but delicious. He decided it was about time we had a dessert. And since he's always wanted to try Crepes Suzette, he made that.

Now, I do not know who Suzette was. But if she ate this dish with any regularity, she must have been a hefty woman. Crepes Suzette is (are? weird grammar thing there) crepes topped with a sauce made with obscene quantities of butter and sugar, plus orange juice, orange liqueur, orange rind, and brandy. It was buttery and citrusy and YUMMY. A. even did the thing where he lit the brandy on fire to burn off the alcohol. I was expecting a big dramatic flash of flame, but it was just a subdued blue flame that burned off quickly.

No matter. Despite the lack of flaming brandy, the whole thing was pretty impressive. And much more satisfying than my baked dirt.