The holidays have begun

 

A rainy, drizzly day in Fort Worth. We were grateful for the half-inch we got, would have liked more, but are thankful the severe thunderstorms, large hail, and possible tornadoes did not materialize. Not a day to inspire great creativity, and I kind of noodled my way through the morning. Mary and I had planned to go to the Holiday Kickoff Sample Stroll at Central Market in the early evening but decided we’d watch the weather. It was warm, humid—the right conditions for severe weather—and to Sophie’s dismay it thundered all afternoon. But about four the thunder gave a last gasp, moved east, and the sun came out. We decided we could go.

When we left the cottage, it was warm but oh so windy. Central Market is west of us and though it’s not particularly flat around it, I’ve always noticed the wind was stronger there. And tonight it was, kept blowing the jacket off my shoulders. We found the #1 handicapped parking spot, and Mary pushed me in my new chariot. I knew it would be crowded and was afraid to try to navigate the motorized grocery cart with that many people. Turned out that was the better part of wisdom. As it was Mary bumped a a few people and was profuse in her apologies.

We had been to this eveny several years go and found it so-so. But tonight, they had really upped their game. Admission was free, though we had followed their request to register online. When we got there, it didn’t matter. Tasting stations were scattered throughout the star, and a greeter at the door gave us maps and coupons. Everything in the store was reduced, all a good bargain, but I couldn’t wrap my head around shopping. I have a long list, but I will order online and ask Jacob to get it Sunday.

Mary, however, had a short list and some impulse buys, all of which ended in a green basket in my lap. I accused her of deliberately picking heavy items—celery, a great bunch of bananas, two jars of peanut butter, and a bottle of some kind of juice. After that I told her she was cut off. The grapes and muffin cups were okay.

One long line snaked its way through the store, and we found it best just to go from station to station following the line, though we frequently pulled out of line because as Mary said you can’t push and eat at the same time. Samples were delivered in tiny paper baskets with napkins and tiny spoons. Wine was served in the tiniest of cups—about two small sips. But the choices were wide.

We were offered red wine, sauvignon blanc, chardonnay, champagne, a mocktail of prosecco and blood orange juice. And the amuse bouche—madeira mushrooms that were delicious (I wished for that recipe—some stations offered them, others did not). Probably my favorite was a schmear of lavender goat cheese on a white chocolate apricot crisp—I don’t need a recipe for that and will duplicate it at home. There was four-cheese lobster and mac (so rich!), butter boards (I’m through with them), sushi, lamb kofta meatballs, whipped ricotta with blistered cherry tomatoes on sourdough, brie en croute. One dessert I loved but Mary thought too sweet was brown butter maple blondies topped with vanilla bean gelato—for me, the gelato cut the sweetness. I do love maple and don’t get it often, don’t think to fix things with it. Remember maple sugar candy when you were a kid?

By the time we’d run the course, I had eaten way too much cheese, wasn’t hungry, but thought I’d need something. I brought home a twice-baked potato. Mary grabbed a crab cake dinner for two—Joe loves crab cake apparently,

When we went into the store, the temperature was in the high seventies, warm though windy. When we came out, it had fallen, in one hour, to the high fifties. We were both grateful for the sweaters we’d really thought unnecessary. I came home and switched from a/c to heat. Sophie greeted us by trying to sneak past my walker and out the door. We stopped her, but I was surprised—I really though t she had outgrown that. Mary said she was just trying to get to me, but I think Mary ascribes too high a motive to her.

At any rate, here I am, settled at home and glad to be. Mary and Joe have gone furniture shopping as their move from huge house to apartment looms ever closer, and I am at my desk. Just ate that potato—Central Market does a good job on them.

So it’s the weekend. Irene will have to wait while I write a column and make some more dipping spice to get ready for a dinner guest next week. Life is good.