Friday arrived. I had plans to leave for Boston by 3 pm. But before I could leave, I had to make all of the meals for the entire weekend. I woke at 4 am. Unable to go back to sleep, I was in the kitchen by 5 am, baking cinnamon rolls according to Beth Hensperger’s recipe. When the Swedish girl, Kakan, walked in for breakfast I told her I thought I had knocked this one out of the ballpark. Looking back, I wonder if she knew what I meant. They were light and pillowy and I didn’t make Hensperger’s sauce, but instead used the trick my friend Abby taught me where you pack the bottom of the dish chock-full with brown sugar, cinnamon and pecans. When they’re finished baking, all you have to do is flip them over. It was an excellent note to start the day on.
Then I made two hotel pans full of a butternut squash baked pasta dish, one with bacon and one without. These were to be re-heated and served for lunch when I was away.
I also made fixings for tacos. I chopped tomatoes and onions and sliced up lettuce and grated cheese and made a mashed bean mix out of those darned beans that never quite softened. (Although I never heard a peep from them on this note, I am sure they tired of seeing those beans.) I arranged for them to recycle the beans and the taco meat for Saturday night’s dinner as well and make burritos in large tortillas instead.
I arrived at the hotel earlier than my friends and even though I had slept a scant few hours, I craved a shower more than sleep. I felt like I’d never been that dirty. I had to wash twice before my skin felt like the grease was off. I washed my hair twice. I cleaned my pores. I perfumed myself. Oh, to be clean!
I put on my city boots and make-up and within an hour I felt feminine again. When Allen and Iz arrived we made our way to Eastern Standard for delicious cocktails and a late night dinner made up of dishes I might not eat for a while: foie gras, bouillabaisse and lobster gnocchi. I went to bed very tired and very happy.