It's decadence. Spoonfuls of decadence. And, sometimes that is just what I need to perk me up when I'm blue.
My pal Jim understood full well, when last night he graciously opened up a jar of deep black, brackish beauties, along with some creme fraiche. Slathered atop water crackers, it was bliss.
Same can be said for a dinner of eggs, cooked low and slow to soft scrambled, bright yellow perfection, adorned with a dollop of sour cream and a generous smattering of caviar, then showered with freshly snipped chives. Supper of the Gods.
I'm sure you're wondering how exactly I can afford to indulge in caviar with such abandon. Did I win Lotto? Nope. But, lucky for me, Jim works for a caviar importer.
What can I say? It's good to know people in all the right places.
I'm hoping he gets a truffle client next!