A Tart

Of all the food of Holy Week and Easter, including the hassle of having to eat food for a whole week when so many other obligations press in, Dessert on Easter Day is nearly always a point too far. For one thing, the average person in my house, and in that summation I do not include myself, is morbidly jacked up on chocolate and lollipops. Another sweet could be construed as pointless. For another, Matt mostly cooks all the other food for dinner. Sometimes I extend myself as far as a large Yorkshire pudding, and sometimes I am persuaded to peel the odd potato, but beyond that, the Big Feasts fall into his hands according to the Order of Marriage agreed upon by us both. I set the table, he cooks the food, then we wrangle about who clears up. Except for dessert. Somehow this, like baking bread, which in my former life was a masculine endeavor (bread and cakes by my father, pies by my mother), has rearranged itself to fall into my realm. I'm not really complaining, Matt didn't cook at all when we got married and by now he has far surpassed me in almost everything. (Yet another reason we shall not probably ever do an Iron Shepherd competition against each other again–I couldn't be sure anymore of winning.) Being all that as it may, so far he has resisted cooking anything sweet. AND YET he insists that we have it. Even Though he himself will hardly ever be tempted to even taste whatever it is I have labored over (last year trifle? I can't remember). And then, for the final and most important reason that producing a dessert for Easter Dinner is a point too far (you thought I'd lost my thread, didn't you, but see, I have it all pulled together) is that by Easter Sunday Afternoon I am completely exhausted and if I didn't make something during the week, which, let us not kid ourselves, there is never really any time to properly attend to, I am left shuffling round the kitchen in despair wondering if perhaps Christianity is a bad idea after all because who can possibly live up to the making of so much dessert and maybe we should all go be atheist anyway.

But Not This Year. This year, as I frantically beat my way around Wegmans on Good Friday (let that be a lesson to us all to plan better next year), gathering in flowers and herbs and bacon, (because we are free in Christ, don't you know) I happened to wander past the cakes. There on a low shelf, nestled between the raisin cookies and the weird looking sugar buns, was a round thin prepackaged object marked Bavarian Sponge. And, as it were, The Lord spake unto me, and said, That would go really nicely with a thin layer of jam or lemon curd and some fruit arranged all pretty and then, because you won't feel like whipping the cream, you could just take the jug and pour it strait on, and with a tea or coffee it would be very nice, having taken you a total of thirty seconds to pull off and yet the crowds shall gather themselves together to praise the work of your hands.

And so I bought it, and did it, and it was delicious, and yea, even now, I am praising The Lord. Also, there was none left. But I happend to buy two, so I might just quietly do another while no one is looking. Happy Easter.