In the Grove, a raven waddles across the grass, which is sparsely covered with snow.
I may be one of the few people who do not tire of turkey left over from Christmas. There is not much left by today, but for me, it makes the perfect sandwich, rendered unctuous by a strip of skin, still bearing the traces of chestnut stuffing and seasoned with a squeeze of lemon juice.
A chocolate fountain at a party. I had heard of these fantasy-like gadgets, but not witnessed one until yesterday. It is about three foot high and a constant flow of liquid chocolate emerges from the top, and falls in several tiers, each wider than the one above, until it reaches a "pond" from which the chocolate is sucked up to be pumped through the system again. You are offered the sort of wooden skewer you use for barbecued kebabs, and invited to spear, one at a time, any of a variety of goodies from fresh strawberries to little eclaires. You hold your piece of fruit or choux pastry under the flow until it is covered in chocolate and swallow the resulting bon-bon with appropriate oos and ahs of appreciation.