The exciting world of baked goods

• Took us a while, but we finally got around to trying out clafoutis. Due to bad timing, monshu was doing the baking while I was still in orchard harvesting apples, but it doesn't seemed to have suffered much for having been made with Grannies that had been sitting around for a bit and pommeau de Normandie rather than Calvados. In texture and taste, it's like a bread pudding without the bread, if that makes any sense. I'm keen to experiment with other flavours, but the GWO was happy enough with it as it was.
• On the subject of bread, monshu brought home a heavy black loaf from the farmers' market. I'd just been reading in Sheraton's German cookbook about "bread sandwiches": a piece of pumpernickel (buttered, natürlich) between two pieces of rye (also buttered, selbstverständlich), and this struck me as the perfect bread to use for such a thing.
• We didn't leave the Welsh Heritage Festival with much in hand besides "Welsh cookies" which were being sold by some guy in Michigan from an old family recipe. [N.B.: Bear lovers may want to follow this link irrespective of their interest in British baked goods. In case you're wondering: Yes, Mike was there in person. No, I didn't get his number.] snowy_owlet called them "griddle cakes", which is what they looked like. The batter was also rather pancake-y, although a little less chewy. They are perfect for nibbling and a fabulous accompaniment to afternoon tea; it took a great deal of self-control for bunj and I to put them out of reach so e. would have the opportunity to taste them.
• Speaking of British baked goods, Guy Fawkes is, of course, right around the corner and I've once again volunteered to bake the Parkin cake. Now, IIRC, teapot_farm last year threatened to share her great-grandmother's frighteningly traditional recipe. We've spent a whole year preparing ourselves, Teapot, and I think we're finally ready for it. Bring it on!
• But in the flurry of new experiences, the only real revelation came in the parking lot of the Apple Holler off I-94. The place is a cheesy as only a southwestern Wisconsin tourist trap can be, but it was the only orchard around with Northern Spies, which apparently hold the status of a sacramental food among upstate New Yorkers. But when e. stood in (I mean on, of course) a big ugly line snaking out the bakery and into the range of mediocre overamplified live reggae for apple cider donuts, I knew they must be something special. OH MY GOD "special" doesn't begin to cover it. It was a spiritual experience akin to eating my first Krispy Kreme donut hot off the line. They couldn't be more different in character, though, as least as donuts go, being more like the cruellers my Dad taught me to make than anything else, but rolled in cider-stained granules rather than the confectioners' sugar we preferred.

Game 5

I'm still searching for a good place to watch the games. So far, B & E's is the most enjoyable, but it's hella far from my place. Also, my history of snide gloating has ensured that I will not find much sympathy under that roof when things don't go my way. Chez monshu is comfortable if lonely, but I think my enthusiasm is beginning to rub up against the limits of his patience. Big Chicks is a sad disappointment: As expected, they did switch the game off the other night in order to show a stupid movie (Billy's Hollywood Screen Kiss, if I'm not mistaken). I wish I could say Crew was a vast improvement, but last Wednesday we went there to find they were showing the ALCS on two smaller TVs in the corners and had all the larger ones--plus the audio--tuned to Bravo for Project Runway. Yes, it is a gay sports bar, and fashion design is clearly a gay sport. And ALL of these places are smoky (in ascending order of noxiousness).

I've had three people try to give me TVs over the past year, but accepting one simply in order to watch baseball for a few weeks out of every year seems pretty silly. I'm open to suggestions.