Saturday, December 17, 2011

chanterelles dream Christmases


Posted by Picasa Poached duck egg and chanterelle  mushrooms on toast at Brawn restaurant  last week. The impression still resonates.

The last dreams you have during the night are the ones you tend to remember. I wake convinced that I have lost the top of  a Waterman ball point pen, which I have become fond of as one becomes fond of frequently used tools. I am in Piccadilly but  the shops are shabby and there are worrying things going on. The top drops off the pen and neatly falls down a drain. I wake up saying " oh dear, oh dear" to myself. I am  regretful rather than  distressed. It is cheering however to wake up properly and to find the black, gold-trimmed pen intact on my writing desk.

Like Christmas, Father Christmas tends to be in the singular; you think each  of them as separate from others of their kind, belonging to a particular time and place. The old man is usually of ample proportions, rosy cheeked and a little ponderous. But this afternoon the sight of two father Christmases striding across The Grove side by side, with their bright red garb fringed with white,  brings a note of cheer to the darkening scene.  They are young, lithe and brisk and their beards and moustaches are all over the place.

2 comments:

earlybird said...

Chanterelles and duck egg... mmm... heavenly combination.

Plutarch said...

Runny duck and other eggs seem to be in fashion nowadays. When you think about it, the runny yolk of a boiled or poached egg is a natural sauce.