The moon stared down on the village Wednesday night and whipped up a fury of wind that scoured stone houses and rattled the plane trees.
When I went out for a breath of fresh air Maundy Thursday evening, Notre Dame beckoned me with open doors. I stood at the back of the church, outside the circle of worshippers, making only the mystery of the incense mine, preferring the celebration of Eastre, the mother goddess of fertility, spring and renewed life.
It was a wet market on Saturday, but a lively one, especially sous le couvert de la salle de marché médiéval (under the cover of the medieval market hall). Everyone was shopping for the Easter Sunday meal and catching up with friends and family come to town for the holiday. G introduced me to a new café on the square in which to have a warm and welcome grand café crème indoors.
Catching up with the Tartlette blog on Saturday evening, I found a lovely recipe for Pavlova with lemon curd and berries. I had just picked up a basket of fraises Gariguette (small local strawberries) and some fresh eggs at the market...I had a lovely new teapot I wanted to show off. I decided to make a treat and invite G, M and D for Easter tea!
I joined the last minute shoppers at the Utile around the corner and picked up lemons for the curd. I hand whisked the egg whites with the sugar while listening to Prairie Home Companion (April 4th with Wynton Marsalis and his Quintet) over the internet -- as is often my Saturday night habit.
I couldn't manage the height or stiffness of peak which the ladies at Tartlette seem to easily achieve with their cuisine-arts, but the crunchy on the outside/marshmallowy in the center Pavlova Pancake, (as I dubbed it) with tart curd and tasty berries gave delicious layers of transmogrified egg nuance to our Eostre tea party.
Quite fitting for a holiday that has undergone considerable shapeshifting through the ages, non?