Time to 'Fess Up

Okay, so there's a reason for the last lame blog (although those truffle cookies are worth baking).  The truth is I am in St. Martin.  Right now.  As I write this. 

We've been visiting this island for 25 years.  We adore it here.  It's half Dutch and half French.  We stay on the French side, of course.  This is the place where we can breathe.  I needed to get Henry out of that "stress pool" he's been living in recently, so I made this trip happen on a moment's notice. 

It's not the best trip we've ever had here.  It rained for the first couple of days, thwarting our plans to hang out on the "nekkid" beach or taking a boat trip.  And right now there is no water pressure in our hotel, so Henry can't take a shower (after a three-hour kayak trip around Simpson Bay).  Apparently a water main broke in the village of Grand Case.  I, of course, took a shower immediately upon getting back here, when we had full pressure.  Not my fault if he decided to take a nap instead!  (Can someone please explain to me why someone can fall asleep with all that salt and sweat plastered onto him?  Guess it's a guy thing).

But can we complain?  Hell no!  We get to sit on our balcony each morning with our coffee and baguette (and incredible French yogurt and butter) and again in the evening to watch the sunset.  We get to eat fabulous food (Grand Case boasts the best "Restaurant Row" in the Caribbean) and we get to WALK there from our hotel.  No DUI's for us!

And we get to "get out of ourselves" and just live in the moment.  That doesn't happen in our frenzied world in Atlanta.  We'll take it.  Breathing is good.

This was the rhubarb "tiramisu" we had for dessert the other night at L'Estaminet.

Trust me, I am not even close to being a skinny cook after this little trip.