This Space for Rent

Blasphemies in the eyes of G-d

No, no, I’m not talking about trivial things like how the Anglicans are busily tearing themselves apart because the disgusting bigots in their ranks don’t think that the glory of G-d is worth a penny unless it means they can kill faggots and anyone else they personally disapprove of (it’s a bonus that this jihad is being driven by priests who, in the grand tradition of religious bigots everywhere, are attempting to climb the church hierarchy on a staircase made of human bones.)

No. I’m talking about tiramisu.

It turns out that if you completely drop the coffee and use Oregon Chai as the solvent to dissolve the ladyfingers in, the resulting tiramisu (in my case, the one from the Moosewood Book Of Desserts, with ladyfingers from the 1892 edition of the Fanny Farmer cookbook) is just as good as the regular coffee-laden version, and will be eaten by a few of the coffee-hating people I cohabitate with.

The bears claim to loath it – “It’s too spicy!” is what they whined while they gobbled the chocolate shavings and ladyfingers off the top of their pieces – but I suspect that this is merely an artifact of my incredibly stupid decision to buy a box of candy for occasional treats over the summer, and the resulting declaration that all sweets, except for the goddamn processed candy, are unacceptably yucky. We will see; the candy is going to be chopped up and tossed into my next batch of biscotti, and then the proof will be in the pudding.