THE IMAGINARY FEAST

The turkey vulture keenly wants a Nesselrode Pudding for after noshing on imaginary little girl hamster. Which is just not going to happen. Even though I know what goes into a Nessselrode. Sweetened chestnut puree. Rum soaked raisins and currants. Candied orange peel.
Custard cream. Dash of cherry liquer. And some gelatine to stiffen it up.

People don't eat like that anymore, and only a cad would consume an imaginary little girl hamster who comes to visit each day. She's a welcomed guest, not an amuse bouche.

Sometimes Nesselrode is served as a bombe glacée. Sometimes à la Muscovite.

The epicurean Muscovite

Meatballs in a Port wine reduction with tarragon, asparagus with crumbled salted egg yolk and garlic butter, sourdough toast points. Green Goddess salad.
And a delicious Nesselrode Pudding to follow the meal.
Followed by coffee and small cigars.


Yes, I think the little fellow would like that. He could PRETEND that the meatballs were little hamster tykes. But sadly I know of no place in San Francisco where I could take the turkey vulture for dinner. There are completely none. His expectations must be dashed.
Because, of course, these are pandemic times.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================