Poor guy. I chose this extreme filter because I think that’s about how he’s feeling right now.
Strawberries are just coming into the market now. It’s too early for strawberries, I know, but it’s cold and muddy out here. There they were, these bright red gariguettes, my favorites, right after Mara des Bois. They were talking to me so I bought a few, just to continue the conversation.
Once I got them home I realized that like so many sweet pretty things, those guys were a little tart inside. They needed help. In such emergencies Pineau des Charentes comes to the rescue quite nicely, so I chopped up those lovelies and macerated them overnight.
I can totally recommend macerated strawberries for Sunday breakfast. The thing is, Jacques wanted a taste. I didn’t think I gave him a whole lot until I realized he wasn’t bugging me at all. He was totally passed out and when he did get up he was dragging and his tail was down. Poor baby. All I could think was “muy borracho.” That tells you all you need to know about my teenage summers spent in Mexico. If I were speaking French and wanted to tell you my little guy was totally drunk, I couldn’t. “Ivre,”okay, but how does one turn that into an expression? My friends are so well behaved that I have no clue. Is that good or sad?
Anyway, he was coming to when I took the shot. Now he’s back in my face and wanting to be let out. He’s fine but he failed the sobriety test. I’ll have to keep that in mind.