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Most definitely, that's what a Brian-style holiday party has: lots of delicious treats. Oh, there were deccies, too, but I was too blind today to really tell the difference. Sigh.
It was a wonderful celebration of old friendships (how could 30 years have flown by so quickly?) and shared memories (such as driving down to Buffalo so that we could eat at Olive Garden).
I'm glad I had my tins of fancy cookies to give each of them. But, dork-a-dork (and a blind one), I thought I'd misplaced the perfect Kissymas cards. Nope. They were at the bottom of the bag, so I scrawled a short message and handed them over. Peter and Brian both gave me gift bags, too (though Brian's included more of his baking).
So, the food: another iteration of a Victorian tea party. There were two kinds of finger (more like palm sized) sandwiches: a stunning cheese, apple, arugula, dijon and ?; and a tomato, arugula and ? that could have used either pesto or basil mayo. The scones, OTOH, were absolutely divine - the best he's ever made. He even made his own raspberry preserve using his slow cooker. And, natch, there was clotted cream. We'd also polished off a bottle of sparkling Moscato. As well as more than two pots of tea with a variety of leaves. But, wait, there's the two-layer Victorian sponge cake with butter cream, whipped cream, and fresh raspberries on top. Oh, no! I'm just too stuffed. Also, because of the blindness, I'm afraid I made a mess on the plate.
In any case, the luscious tastes got rid of the vile taste of the Robax I'd chewed (gross!) on my minivan ride over, as I thought I might choke if I dry swallowed it, but could feel my back muscles getting ready to shriek.
Alas, the nostalgia only went so far. I did not appreciate sitting in the lobby on a cushy bench (no arms or back) from 4:20 until 5:05 when my minivan finally showed up. I was driven home in a slumped position as that was the only way my feet touched the floor. So, yeah, everything is screaming now. Begging the universe to help me sleep!
It was a wonderful celebration of old friendships (how could 30 years have flown by so quickly?) and shared memories (such as driving down to Buffalo so that we could eat at Olive Garden).
I'm glad I had my tins of fancy cookies to give each of them. But, dork-a-dork (and a blind one), I thought I'd misplaced the perfect Kissymas cards. Nope. They were at the bottom of the bag, so I scrawled a short message and handed them over. Peter and Brian both gave me gift bags, too (though Brian's included more of his baking).
So, the food: another iteration of a Victorian tea party. There were two kinds of finger (more like palm sized) sandwiches: a stunning cheese, apple, arugula, dijon and ?; and a tomato, arugula and ? that could have used either pesto or basil mayo. The scones, OTOH, were absolutely divine - the best he's ever made. He even made his own raspberry preserve using his slow cooker. And, natch, there was clotted cream. We'd also polished off a bottle of sparkling Moscato. As well as more than two pots of tea with a variety of leaves. But, wait, there's the two-layer Victorian sponge cake with butter cream, whipped cream, and fresh raspberries on top. Oh, no! I'm just too stuffed. Also, because of the blindness, I'm afraid I made a mess on the plate.
In any case, the luscious tastes got rid of the vile taste of the Robax I'd chewed (gross!) on my minivan ride over, as I thought I might choke if I dry swallowed it, but could feel my back muscles getting ready to shriek.
Alas, the nostalgia only went so far. I did not appreciate sitting in the lobby on a cushy bench (no arms or back) from 4:20 until 5:05 when my minivan finally showed up. I was driven home in a slumped position as that was the only way my feet touched the floor. So, yeah, everything is screaming now. Begging the universe to help me sleep!
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