Saturday, 7 February 2009

not a recipe

This is not a recipe, it's a revelation.

I was over reading this article by Susan Russo on Medjool dates. And yes, her descriptions were lovely, and tempting, and made me think about eating one of these little gems, but at the same Maybe it's the California thing - I'm spoiled because they grow here. Don't get me wrong, I really do love dates, they just aren't something I consider so special. We've always had some hanging around the house (my mom munches them like candy), and they were just always there.


One of the lovely things about being home with the parents for a while is the fabulous stocked kitchen available to me. There are four kinds of lentils in the cupboard, three cheeses from the Cowgirl creamery in the fridge, and a spread of fruit across the counters that trembles to be eaten. A little different than same-old potatoes and cheddar in Scotland.
One of the perks of the kitchen is the salt: several kinds of fleur de sel, brought over by friends or ordered of the marvelous internet, one container exceeding TWO pounds!!!
I've been eyeing it up since I've been home, sprinkling it here and there, but really I've been waiting to get my hands on the ingredients for caramels sprinkled with fleur de sel, a combination I would lay down and die for.

And then these medjool descriptions came along, and in my eyeline were those tubs of fleur de sel, sadly sitting in the corner and just waiting for me to give them some attention. And then it happened. The carmelly, super sweet sticky gooeyness that is the medjool date split itself in half, got sprinkled with a few crunchy grains of sel, and it was done. The deal was sealed, and three more later little bites later, I felt coated with that wonderful feeling that always arises after finding that perfect sweet/savoury combination.

Do it. Do it now.

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