There are good times to choose to go on a diet and there are bad times. I would class the day I'm making a pear tart as a pretty bad time, but no amount of persuasion can break the Chief Taster's resolve. Credit to the girl, she won't even have a sliver, even as I torture her by eating a fairly large slice in front of her eyes. Oh well, that's one big tart for me to get through over the next few days. Chief Taster suggests taking some of the remaining tart into her office to share with her colleagues. What a lovely idea, it really should go to a good home and I'm sure it will hold its own amongst the patisserie of W1. Besides, there'll be plenty left for me.
The next morning as usual, Chief Taster leaves for work while I am still semi-conscious in bed. She says something about the tart and I grunt in agreement. When I do get up and head to the kitchen, I open the fridge to find that actually, there isn't plenty left for me. Most of it has disappeared, gone, shazam! My lovely pear tart with the shortest of shortcrust pastry has been reduced to a solitary segment and my plan to eat a slice at 3 hour intervals throughout the day has been scuppered. She emails to say she didn't want me to get fat, and she's right of course. Because only I know how much butter went into that tart...
2 comments:
I must confess to being one of the very happy recipient's of your pear tart. I for one can't think of a better way to get through the slog of a Monday afternoon at my desk than by feasting on that absolutely delicious tart. It was divine. Yum yum yum...thanks Pete!
Anna
I must confess to being one of the very happy recipient's of your pear tart. I for one can't think of a better way to get through an afternoon sat at my desk than by feasting on that absolutely delicious tart. It was divine. Yum yum yum...thanks Pete!
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