I met Cynthia years ago in Paris. We were Americans living abroad; she had a bakery close to my apartment where she whipped up American favorites. Cynthia was a rising star in the pastry world, and I was her official taster (Well, that is the title I would rather have than a Piglet. With the number of desserts I ate in her shop, I wonder if I didn't give birth to a cheesecake. Well, Chelsea did weigh ten pounds at birth.)
Cynthia made her famous cheesecake for our friends one evening. It was a hit.
Notes of chocolate and raspberry added to the flavor of the cheesecake.
After all, I wanted the guests to sing, and they certainly did sing praises to Cynthia, which had high notes and memorable lyrics.
French Husband loveD Cynthia's cakes and desserts.
After eating his second piece of cheesecake, he teasingly added, "The cheesecake has the taste of….." he looked up as if thinking what the missing flavor might be; Cynthia and French Husband shared a knowing glance, I snorted a giggle, and then he looked at Cynthia and said, "…the taste of not enough." He had yet another piece.
And the memory of our past lived on in every bite.
The cheesecake is a top-secret recipe (though I have Cynthia's recipe. That is another story.)
It has two layers: the crust is chocolate and is laced with raspberry and melted chocolate.
While Cynthia was with us, I was in hog heaven.
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Cynthia's story should be made into a movie.
A sweet comedy about a young woman in Paris in 1985; she knew not a soul, didn't speak a word of French, had no money, and was very tall, which made her stand out, but no internet. Yet, she took Paris by storm with chocolate; she had a severe allergic reaction to salt and sugar (yeah, she was a baker, the first woman and American to be in Gault Millau…
I need a scriptwriter.
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