Very few things are enticing enough to get me to wake up before 8:00 a.m. on a Saturday.
A flight to a sunny destination would be one of them. The other, our annual trip to St. Lawrence Market on the Saturday before Christmas. We visit St. Lawrence Market many times throughout the year, but only on the final Saturday before Christmas do we meet up with my in-laws for a stand-up breakfast of peameal bacon sandwiches from Carousel Bakery.
Two years ago, St. Lawrence Market was named the top food market in the world by National Geographic. It’s best to wear your stretchy pants when you come to visit.
After breaking bread (and back bacon) with my in-laws, we parted ways. They headed home (having been at the market for ninety minutes prior to our arrival, and having long finished their shopping), and we began perusing the various vendors, planning out dinners for the next few nights as we bought all the fresh meat, seafood, cheese and produce our hearts desired.
And also bread.
Scrumptious temptations all around, but it was one specific vendor that called out to me. Its wares singing like the sirens of Greek mythology. Damn you, Boulangerie Parisienne, with your flaky, fresh-from-the-oven, pastries. You are my achilles heel.
Croissants aux Amandes? Mais, oui!
Pain au Chocolat avec Amandes? Mais bien sûr!!!
Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first. ~Ernestine Ulmer
The added bonus of indulging in these decadent delectables? Motivation to get my ass moving all weekend long.
So, merci, you lovely pastries. You were both delicious and highly effective. Who needs a personal trainer when you’ve got a box of pastries on your kitchen counter?
Not only did these bad boys get (and keep) me moving all weekend, the extra sugar gave me energy to spare. I managed to get some good exercise in while also:
- Crossing a number of items off my Christmas shopping list, including gifts for two very hard-to-buy-for recipients. What a relief.
- Concocted a plan to add some pizzazz to the blah (and not so thoughtful) gift of a gift card by making some homemade sugar body scrubs. Bought jars, ribbon and craft paper to pretty them up. Watch out Martha Stewart, there’s a new sheriff in town.
- Unable to find an Ugly-Christmas-Sweater for my 6.5 year old nephew, I decided to embrace my new-found inner crafty chick and made him one. Huzzah!
With all those accomplishments, it’s needless to say I’m feeling pretty damned smug this morning.
My only regret today is that I didn’t buy the absolute best welcome mat in the history of welcome mats.
I may need to go back.