I love to read, and about two years ago, I got friendly with a co-worker who is also a reader. After a number of shifts where we found ourselves talking about what we were reading in the bathroom or hallway, she said to me: “I want to start a book club.” And so we did.
We decided it would be women only, and we rounded up enough to have an even half-dozen. We meet every four to six weeks or so, but it’s fluid and we take holidays and summers off.
The first meeting was at my place, and I assembled snacks: salsa, chips … I think I had muffins or scones. But then one person brought cookies, another brought cheese and a couple brought wine. That pretty much set the tone for our book club. We talk about books, but we also eat a lot.
One member has a husband who is a fabulous cook. Today’s meeting was at her house. The book was “Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet,” but that’s not important. The menu is what’s worth talking about.
Her husband made Quiche Lorraine, a shrimp and avocado salad and bowls of strawberries and grapes. For dessert, he made chocolate pudding.
As our book club member said, “When was the last time you had that?”
The answer is, probably not since I was a kid, and this was way better than Jello pudding. It also was beautiful, scooped into delicate glass cocktail cups and topped with a sprig of mint.
Her husband came in midway through our session, and we applauded him. He said, “Let me tell you, we’ve been hosting dinners here for nine years, and this is the first time the good pudding dishes have come out.”
How nice is that? We applaud the dishes too.