Oh, Dorie. What a glorious gift you have bestowed upon us all - the ability to make eclairs.
Now, I am sure my backside will not be as grateful as the rest of me, but...oh, beautiful, glorious eclairs.
Eggs. Butter. Milk. Treat extraordinaire...
Pate a choux.... I love you!
My first inklings of eclairs were as a young'un. Knee high to a grasshopper.
Every once in a while, my dad would pick up a box of Freihofer eclairs from the local grocer. And it was love. I would peel the glaze off the top and eat that first. Then I would eat the pastry all around & try very quickly to catch the cream as it fell to the table because I had taken away its support (It wasn't my brightest moment, obviously).
Eclairs came (and should only come) one way.
Vanilla cream center.
No more. No less. The formula works. Don't mess with it. Ever. Ever. Ever.
Since the directive was to hurry up and get them finished... No time to be "pretty". Move along, mom.
On a side note...last week's wacky weather and heavy rain finally washed away most of the snow - clearing the tracks up here just in time for Track Season.
Time to stand for hours (and hours and hours and hours) on the side lines and yell "Run, Runner Girl, run". (Kidding!) Hopefully, by the end of season, We, The Spectators can also don our shorts and tanks (no spandex please on the parents...).
The Runner Girl...
Not The Runner Girl...
(well, not My Runner Girl) - but I liked this shots of kids going over the hurdles (if only the background wasn't so congested...).
Happy Spring, y'all!
This post participates in French Fridays with Dorie. Come check out how all the other FFwD'ers sweetened up the world around them this week!