You know, as hard as I try to be a conscientious eater and stay on the path of the righteous woman (i.e. don’t eat chocolate whenever it’s presented to me) it is not always that easy. Especially when you go to the Karkloof Farmers market before breakfast.
The Portuguese custard tarts in the center of the plate were from a cute little couple selling chicken liver pate, chicken and mushroom pies and these little crispy pots of delight which I, nor my mother the incorrigible gourmet food buyer, could resist. Biting into them, the custard slides past your chompers to hit your taste buds with a whirl of cinnamon and vanilla, only to be followed by a satisfying crispy crunch as the pastry gets demolished…and goes straight to your spare tire.
The glossy chocolate tarts don’t actually come from the Karkloof Market, but from La Baguette. A pucker French bakery found in the land of the pensioner (i.e. Howick), La Baguette has got bread of many types – but more importantly they import chocolate from Europe to make these exquisite chocolate tarts. Imagine super soft chocolate mousse piped into a firm brown casing, topped with a glossy lick of black chocolate blended with just enough cream. I was expecting them to be quite firm in the middle, but these chocolate tarts are ridiculously airy and light. I don’t even want to know how to make them because I could never reproduce that taste.
And last but not least were the lemon tarts, the singular of which you can see above. The other one didn’t even make it all the way home. It is literally as good as it looks. Delicate, not overly sweet…just frikkin’ awesome. Also from La Baguette. Nom nom nom.
Pamela Mary (the gourmet food buyer) and I were also buying plants for various garden projects. My project is the fourth attempt at rectifying Maggie’s veggie patch. I have learnt that gardens need constant supervision, encouragement and weeding to actually work. Thus I have taken inspiration from my friend Michelle’s garden which is filled with rocks and indigenous stuff between her mammoth rhubarb, herbs and other veggies. If Michelle’s garden looks like the Garden of Eden (and it really does, a nice proper African Eden with a duck house made of tarp), mine looks like the garden in which depressed vegetables go to commit suicide or shoot up on plant smack. I’ll post a picture when I have the courage to take one. Here is a picture of Mich’s one instead with William trying to plant a flower in his beard.
Anyway, point is – it’s nice to eat a fancy tart when you’re covered in mud and are very hungry from gardening. Simple things in life!
