And Gutenberg Lived Here: The Epic Battle Of The Easter Phyllo- Bring Your Own Catsup.

About a week ago,

in preparation for Easter,

I made an impulse buy-

phyllo dough.

In case you haven’t heard of it,

it’s that strange layered stuff

you have to defrost,




leave sit for a while,

take an aspirin,

start flattening, pulling, watering, again.

And studying.

from the standpoint of:

“it says bake 10 minutes.

And “gluten-free.”

And nothing else.

As in:

now that I have bought this stuff,

what do I do with it?

I defrosted it.

Seemed like a good idea at he time.

On Thursday, I thought I would make part of it into shells,

to fill with Maundy Thursday spinach.

chopped and pounded to the level of soupy goop.

The goop we ate with a spoon.

To my husband’s sighs of

“what do I do with this now- ”

the shell-


there’s hopefully not any more left is there?

Just two more portions frozen, sweety.


good Friday-

I underestimated.

It was three more pieces.

One became a bowl for his baked fish.

Mine got melted cheese.

Like strange greasy pizza.

Not so good.

Saturday, we had a piece as a bowl for strawberries.

It collapsed in baking,

so was more like a strawberry pastry.

I gave up and poured milk on top.

On Sunday, we went all out.

Strawberries, strips of pastry, whipping cream.

Not bad if you like gluten-free puff pastry-

by this time, I ate half, and headed for the carrots.

And finally,


the second day of Easter,

as it is called over here,

a holiday for finishing up the flattened, slightly soured,

not so really what you want

left-over phyllo,

I gave up,

and poured vanilla yoghurt over the top.

Not bad with berries.

And washed the dishes,

thrilled that we had made it:

a very very happy Easter weekend,

with joy

and love.

and sunrise viewing

to the sounds of birds just stirring,


And then,

with my husband on the phone

calling his relatives,

as you do on second Easter over here,

just as I was packing away the carrots I had bought too many of in the freezer,

to be made into soup,

one cold and starry night,

if the good Lord’s willin’ and the creek don’t rise,

I found it:

a one year old package of phyllo-

I had frozen,

since I didn’t know what to do with it

last Easter.

So, if you’ve gotten this far

into the saga of phyllo-

Anybody want to come over for baked bean packets

and pigs in a blanket?

Fourth of July.

7 PM

Bring your own catsup.

copyright 2017

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