It's too hot. Too hot for eating, too hot for sleeping. I'm making canteloupe sorbet tonight because that's all I really feel like eating. I polished off the grapefruit-rosemary and I've been avoiding the ice cream, not wanting eggs and cream bouncing about in my stomach. Sorbet feels nice. I've got pears for pear sorbet, too. Pears poached in wine with anise and vanilla beans, churned into sorbet.
At the Goodwill in Oakland today I bought restaurant-grade pots, ramekins, and a springform pan. They gave me a discount on the pots because they were a little banged-up, and I just played dumb like I was a sucker buying beat up pans and not some intrepid little baker.
I watched my sorbet spin, adding sugar syrup until the consistency smoothed out, tasting it, and trying to figure out how it would taste when it froze and how it looked and to get it right.
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