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Night of a Thousand Thoughts

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Michael Bassey Johnson

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“Faith exalts the human heart, by removing it from the market-place, making it sacred and unexchangeable. Under the jurisdiction of religion our deeper feelings are sacralised, so as to become raw material for the ethical life: the life lived in judgement. When faith declines, however, the sacred is unprotected from marauders; the heart can be captured and put on sale. When this happens the human heart becomes kitsch. The clichéd kiss, the doe-eyed smile, the Christmas-card sentiments advertise what cannot be advertised without ceasing to be. They therefore commit the salesman to nothing; they can be bought and sold without emotional hardship, since the emotion, being a fantasy product, no longer exists in its committed and judgement-bearing form.”

“It started with a bashed-up baguette and the promise of dessert. Test One "Okay, what have you got?" Jeff asked. "What have I got? You're the genius who said we could make a competition worthy dessert out of a floor baguette," I said. "I'm the big ideas guy. You're the flavor guru." (He's not wrong.) We decided on a maple bread pudding, inspired by Chef Luc Roy in Montreal. After a bit of fiddling with measurements and deciding on doneness, about an hour and ten minutes later it was ready and smelling like heaven but too sweet, too loose, and too close to a classic pouding chômeur. Test Two We decreased the milk, added another egg, and removed the maple syrup. But we still needed a core flavor. Hmm, core... "What about apple?" I suggested. Test Three We added some sautéed Golden Delicious, and it was good but still missing something. "Maybe a little crunch?" pondered Jeff. "Walnuts?" "Yes," I said with a high five. "But pecans." We were jiving like peanut butter and jam. Fifty-seven minutes later we had another golden-brown bread pudding on our hands. It was moist but still had texture, and the flavor was definitely there. Yet it still wasn't competition-worthy. Test Four "I have an idea. Can you get me a small saucepan and a whisk, please?" Jeff fetched the pan while I collected butter, sugar, cream, and Calvados, then whisked together a spiked butter sauce over the heat. I poured most of it over the still-warmed bread pudding, so it absorbed the luscious sauce like rain on Kentucky bluegrass.”