Here in Holy Land Central, we celebrated Shavuot yesterday. Biblically it marks the time when Charleston Heston aka Moses received the Torah on Mt. Sinai. It also is a time to celebrate fruits reaped from the 1st harvest.
In these here parts, however, somebody got his/her food chart confused. Because people gather together on this holiday and indulge in copious amounts of brie, Gruyere, neufchatel, creamy blintzes, and assorted varieties of cheesecake – all clearly not listed in the fresh fruit column of Miss Sally’s 1st grade inverted pyramid.
I was invited to a rather nice brunch sorta thing yesterday with the type of fare described above and then some.
You MUST try my signature gnocchi. The secret ingredient is the truffle oil a friend urged in whisper tones. It was good. Very good.
But I was holding out for the cheesecake. Holding out all week, in fact. I hadn’t had any sweets AT ALL because I was saving up for a nice, thick slice of homemade no-bake cheesecake. I assumed there would be some and I wasn’t disappointed.
HOWEVER, as fate would play out I had to split the gathering after an hour and a half. And dessert had not yet been “busted out”. I lamented to a few friends on the balcony.
Tell (the hostess) you’re leaving and to bring out dessert for heavens sake! an unknown confidante suggested. It’s Israel! You can do that here!
Yes, but I’m still who I am regardless of where I am. And I couldn’t bring myself to impose in that manner.
Bummer. I had to go. All of the anticipation and I didn’t “get my cheesecake on”. My waistline (and toochas and thighs) will thank me.
Who asked them?