Bread Pudding, Bailey's, and Books

Tonight was the March meeting of the Downtown Book Ladies. We take turns hosting, and always are treated to a nice spread. This time, Sue Rice made a divine bread pudding with whiskey caramel sauce. I had met this luscious dessert once before, at our recent progressive dinner party. Because I was in polite company, I didn't eat the entire pan that night, but I easily could've. It was even better this time, because I had it with Bailey's Caramel Irish Cream. Talk about gilding the lily.

As for the books, we've given up our organized method of choosing a theme and then finding a season's worth of appropriate titles. We are all voracious readers, but have trouble somehow getting around to the book on the list. So this year we're just each reporting on whatever we've read to the rest of the group. We go home full of wine and food, reading recommendations, copies of books others are finished with, and of course a month's worth of gossip and travel news. Best book club ever!

Party Party

Holiday season is definitely upon us. Last night was not one, but two parties in the neighborhood for me. First was cocktails at the McIntosh, a very cool condo complex around the corner from me. The McIntosh is a converted shoe factory with high ceilings, exposed brick walls, huge windows, and other neat features. Almost half of the Downtown Book Ladies live there.

Book Lady Kathy was throwing a bash for her sister, Carol. How she managed to make it a surprise, if she did succeed, I have no idea, as they live right next door to one another. At least forty people showed up while I was there. The noise problem was solved by inviting most of the neighbors.

After I had sampled as many hors d'oeuvres as I could decently get away with, downed a couple of glasses of cava, sampled the Lillet punch, and of course chatted with everyone I knew, I followed Anna--another book lady--over to Kimball Towers, another condo complex a block away. The Kimball was the original Sheraton, very stately and grand. The first-floor meeting rooms are popular with the Armoury-Quadrangle Civic Association, which traditionally holds its holiday party there.

Jana Byrd was playing her sax, somebody who looked like Santa Claus but sounded suspiciously like Robert Louder had just handed out presents to the kids, and a few people were still sitting around. The three long tables holding beverages and tiered dishes of fancy pastries had been rather decimated, but I was stuffed anyway. Steve Baribeau, who headed up AQCA with me a couple of years ago, had an empty chair next to him, and I was happy to see him. Both homeowners, we chatted about--what else?--the cost of utilities, and our valiant efforts to deal with the cost of not freezing to death in New England. A sign of the times.

The Rescue Artist

Tonight was the monthly meeting of the Downtown Book Ladies. We met at Anna's. We read The Rescue Artist. It was too long. It was boring. We learned a lot about stolen art. Every year, lots of paintings get stolen. The Scream got stolen, but it got rescued. The Scream is painted on cardboard. Part of it is drawn in chalk. The men who stole it climbed up a ladder. After they stole the painting, they left the ladder behind. Charlie Hill was a famous painting rescuer. He finally found the painting. Next time we will read The Calligrapher. Cicily picked it out. Maggie already finished it, and she hates it. We have time for one more book. No matter what, Cicily is not thinking up any more ideas.