26 November 2013
It’s November 26 and the making of the Pumpkin Pie has now assumed the proportions of an approaching asteroid, whirlingly destructive. Nerves are as taut as when VB first made an Irish stew for her mother-in-law.
But Ginny does not grovel about for excuses; oh no, she is a rugged Northerner. Did she mention that she has a rolling pin but no board? That she has neither an electric hand mixer nor a food processor? By way of substitute Gin has an elderly stick-thing, with a vicious blade but dodgy wiring — which may or may not account for it heating up rather more hotly than it ought. Yes she has scales, a spatula, a knife and many wooden spoons.
She confesses to having bought ready-made pastry; sorry, all you Michel Rouxs out there. She also confesses to a brief conversation with a chef she happens to know, intending to grease his palm with silver. But it was a step too low, even for her, and anyway he was busy.
Will she make it? Or will she come down with a sudden and unexpected attack of la grippe? She has not yet had the flu jab, and friends say she looks pale: peeky is the word. Can it be she may yet duck out?
Don’t hold your breath.