RDP Sunday: Journalist


After a year’s absence the smell of baking could again be noticed in the Angloswiss kitchen.

“Is there a reason for this Mrs. Angloswiss.”

“Of course, and I am delighted to welcome Mr. Fruity Spice to my kitchen for this interview featuring the newest developments from my oven.

The apricots have again appeared. After a year they have returned, large and fruity as ever. It was a difficult choice picking the right sizes and ripeness, but I was successful. I carefully prepared the baking dish, lining it with baking paper and a layer of pastry, trimming the edges to fit the shape. And then it got rather dangerous, but I survived: cutting each apricot in to quarters and placing them on the pastry is not risk free.

The sweat was pouring from my forehead.  Would there be enough apricots? I breathed a sigh of relief when I realised they fitted exactly.”

“Did you have any support from your family Mrs. Angloswiss, whilst you were embarking on the completion of this task.”

“No Mr. Spice, I was left to my own devices, but luckily there were no unforeseen accidents, no blood was drawn and I did not slip on any spilt liquids on the floor. I knew it would be a risky endeavour but I held on to the very end.. After placing the apricots in the pastry I baked them in the oven with the pastry for 20 minutes.”

“And you were successful?”

“Oh yes, I had switched on the timer on my iPhone to ensure that I had a signal when I had completed the first baking procedure. Now came the tricky part. I had mixed the eggs and cream, flavoured with sugar and a spoonful of cornflower ensured the liquid would  become firm under the heat process afterwards in the oven. I carefully poured the liquid over the apricots, ensuring that it did not spill over the edge of the pastry and again placed it in the oven. Can you imagine how relieved I was when the tart was finally finished and I removed it from the oven?”

“Of course Mrs. Angloswiss and no ingredients were harmed in the process?”

“No, not at all, not one apricot begged for mercy or screamed during the process.”

“I left the Angloswiss household with a good feeling after sampling a piece of apricot flan, washed down with an Angloswiss coffee, hearing the words uttered by Mr. Swiss “where is my piece?” ”

And life returned to normality in the Angloswiss household. I will be visiting Mrs Angloswiss for further reports on how the situation will develop throughout the fruit season.”

RDP Sunday: Journalist

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