The raspberries looked more beautiful than I imagined, tempting me to buy more than I needed. Carrying them home I thought of the raspberry tarte that French Husband's nephew had made for us the other evening, and wondered if I could duplicate it.
But first, Confiture, jam, was on my list of things to do.
You might be wondering why I do not have a raspberries, nor a tarte, nor or jam to show….
The pot was simmering when the phone rang.
The doorbell rang with friends popping in, which led to coffee & coversation. After I remembered something I wanted to do at a friend's house, and left the confiture simmering…
Red was the color of the wall, sticky mess was on the stovetop, and raspberries stuck to the bottom of the pot my reward.
But that is something I am not going to show you because I am still steaming about my forgetfulness, and do not want to remember it when I look back on my blog when I am eighty years old.
Instead a photo of the raspberry tarte that French Husband's nephew made.
It was delicious!
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