(Disclaimer: If you are a morning person and welcome daybreak with a 30mm smile and a tune to your whistle, I apologize in advance for the ranting below)
I am not a morning person. And because I'm not a morning person, a few non-sensible routines will have to be completed to ease me into a more chipper state of being when 7am comes around.
In the mornings, I like to lightly run my fingers through my wardrobe before I pick an outfit to wear, inhale the aroma of fruits that I pack for a mid-morning noshing, make a mental note of the shoes that I've yet to take out into the world and gaze at the pink and orange sky while I ponder upon Psalm 19 on my way to work.
The sequence of these activities help me start most days right, except for Monday.
Monday - Ugh! Enough said, right? It has always been my least favorite day of the week.
However, today I was able to beat the Monday morning blues from the most unexpected source.
The antidote to my weariness? A chocolate cherry tart (courtesy of passionateaboutbaking.com)
Let me explain.
When Sunday evening came around I was slipping into my usual bout of dread for the week ahead. I seem to have more of these now than I did before. Like a looming cloud I can't quite shake off every time the weekend comes to a close.
I puttered around the kitchen and opened the fridge to survey its contents when a bunch of cherries caught my gaze. To me cherries were always the more jubilant ones of the fruit kingdom. But at that moment I wasn't able to peel my eyes away because (and this will sound crazy in a minute) it seemed like those cherries were returning my stare with (again this will sound crazy) what can only be inferred as a dare. I know what you're thinking - Fruit that dares? This singleton is off her rocker. Believe me, even as I type these words the insanity of my confession is leaping back at me.
Ludicrous as I continue to sound, in that moment my mid-day snack had transformed into a band of 'cocky and challenging' ruffians daring me to get out of my slump and do something. Something besides the moping around in the jammies because tomorrow is a Monday. I rose to the challenge.
The dread was gone. One bite of this exquisite tartlette and I had vanquished the blues. As pathetic as it sounds, slicing those cherries, steeping them in tangerine balsamic vinegar and then slathering them atop my miniature tarts felt very cathartic. I had conquered the "cherry bully".
When Monday came-a-knocking, I was still basking in my glory. A morning grump was I, no longer.
Bring it on Tuesday; I'm ready for you too.
P.S. I still like cherries. This is an exquisite dessert and I would make them again minus the combative spirit. Chop to it, chickadee. Give it a try. Don't wait till " the fruit starts talking".
I am not a morning person. And because I'm not a morning person, a few non-sensible routines will have to be completed to ease me into a more chipper state of being when 7am comes around.
In the mornings, I like to lightly run my fingers through my wardrobe before I pick an outfit to wear, inhale the aroma of fruits that I pack for a mid-morning noshing, make a mental note of the shoes that I've yet to take out into the world and gaze at the pink and orange sky while I ponder upon Psalm 19 on my way to work.
The sequence of these activities help me start most days right, except for Monday.
Monday - Ugh! Enough said, right? It has always been my least favorite day of the week.
However, today I was able to beat the Monday morning blues from the most unexpected source.
The antidote to my weariness? A chocolate cherry tart (courtesy of passionateaboutbaking.com)
Let me explain.
When Sunday evening came around I was slipping into my usual bout of dread for the week ahead. I seem to have more of these now than I did before. Like a looming cloud I can't quite shake off every time the weekend comes to a close.
I puttered around the kitchen and opened the fridge to survey its contents when a bunch of cherries caught my gaze. To me cherries were always the more jubilant ones of the fruit kingdom. But at that moment I wasn't able to peel my eyes away because (and this will sound crazy in a minute) it seemed like those cherries were returning my stare with (again this will sound crazy) what can only be inferred as a dare. I know what you're thinking - Fruit that dares? This singleton is off her rocker. Believe me, even as I type these words the insanity of my confession is leaping back at me.
Ludicrous as I continue to sound, in that moment my mid-day snack had transformed into a band of 'cocky and challenging' ruffians daring me to get out of my slump and do something. Something besides the moping around in the jammies because tomorrow is a Monday. I rose to the challenge.
I blitzed through recent recipes that I'd bookmarked until I found "it". A very indulgent cherry tart that I would in a mere two hours into the future be savoring triumphantly. I bet those cheeky cherries didn't see that coming.
The dread was gone. One bite of this exquisite tartlette and I had vanquished the blues. As pathetic as it sounds, slicing those cherries, steeping them in tangerine balsamic vinegar and then slathering them atop my miniature tarts felt very cathartic. I had conquered the "cherry bully".
When Monday came-a-knocking, I was still basking in my glory. A morning grump was I, no longer.
Bring it on Tuesday; I'm ready for you too.
P.S. I still like cherries. This is an exquisite dessert and I would make them again minus the combative spirit. Chop to it, chickadee. Give it a try. Don't wait till " the fruit starts talking".
