My mother used to make her own cream puffs. I am one of them. I’m talking about real cream puffs here, not those frozen nuggets from Sam’s Club,(they’re good but unreal like coffee from a vending machine.) I am real. I am sweet and delicious. I’m kind of fluffy. My mother usually made a big batch of these giant puffy wonders. We would have them for dinner with creamed tuna or turkey and then for dessert with home made pudding in the middle. You would not call her cream puffs wimpy or wussy. Neither am I. I will admit to being a liberal and lover of underdogs but a good cream puff doesn’t cave in easily. It has a little crust and a divine inner world.
I used to work just North of the UC Berkeley campus and there was a tiny bakery on the corner of Euclid and Hearst which made excellent almond cookies and cream puffs. I can’t remember the name of it so if you know, tell me. It probably isn’t there anymore as the property would be worth zillions today. Anyway, my sister was visiting from L.A. and because the puffs were so pufferiferous, we decided to split one. We ate it by bites. She took one, then me. I got the last bite, I thought, only when I got it into my mouth my sister reached in and took it out, put it in her mouth and swallowed quickly. This is the story I tell when I want to describe the relationship we have. There was some fury on my part but then delight in a good story to tell. Probably one of the best couple of dollars I ever spent.
I’m thinking of making a tee shirt which reads “Liberal and Lovin’ it” with a big picture of a cream puff. I’ll post it when I have a mock up. Until then, Creampuffs of the world unite!
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