Yeah, that’s how I feel about it. You need to first understand that I am no cook. I don’t pretend to be one. I don’t aspire to be one. Occasionally I cook because 1) I have time (this never happens) and 2) I’m sick of take out.  Occasionally I bake because, hey, Oreos just aren’t as satisfying anymore. Now, while I’m no cook, I can read recipes. And even, on the occurence, follow them. This past weekend was one such weekend.

Mostly, I’d say it was out of a need to protect my sweet, luscious cherries. Dearest bunny convinced me to buy a few pounds of cherries at the store. they were delectable. they were ripe. They were going to perish in a moldy horrible way if I didn’t do something to them nearly immediately. Hmmm. Cherry ice cream? Good, but the recipes wanted 1) too many of them and 2) me to candy them. No. Pie, a definite possibility, but we didn’t have enough. So what to do with this amount of cherries?

Survey says (or at least cookbook index says) Cherry Clafouti. And, hey it’s french, so how badly could it go. Well, here:

Now, technically, I think that’s correct. But what I didn’t pay attention to is that this is a “pudding” with some “custardyness” to it. I’m not sure why I though something that is akin to crepe batter would, uh, crisp up, but well. It didn’t. Instead it was, well gummy in a chewy nasty sort of way. I don’t think the recipe was a failure so much as my palate failed to appreciate it’s gummy goodness? In any case, Clafouti, I barely knew ye. Fare thee well.

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