Let's not bury the lede. I had a baked Alaska last night. I'd seen them on my teevee before and last night we all, for the first time, witnessed it in all its glory. Tiller is moving to Alaska this afternoon and Sarah, being the ingenious and caring person that she is (the English adjective escapes me at the moment, but the Chinese word I'm thinking of means, literally, pasted-on-heart, to mean someone who's so intimately caring it's as if their heart is pressed against yours) thought to make a baked Alaska to send her off. I don't care where you're heading off, a baked Alaska is always the perfect send off. I can't even begin to pick a favorite part. Chocolate cake. Crushed Oreos center. Chocolate ice cream. A baked on meringue top reminiscent of s'mores. And oh, that's right, fire, glorious fire, brought on by rum, glorious rum, blazing through the whole, glacial piece, like a scene straight out of An Inconvenient Truth. It was a flawless presentation, with an all-too-eager Keith pouring flaming liqueur all over the pan and then back and forth between two cups as Sarah narrated the history of the dessert (it used to be called Alaska and Florida). Seamless execution. And I dare you to pick a high or low spot (no, the fire wasn't the winner because well, you can''t eat fire- you can eat crushed Oreos). Jordan and Ewing have nothing on this dream team.
PS. My Chinese is on a roll this week. First I help Father translate a phrase into Chinese (he was rather indignant that I came up with something better, considering how absolutely poor my skills are) and today, I can only think of the Chinese words I want, not English. Maybe tomorrow I'll learn how to write properly.
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