Pairings: Maple Syrup

A friend hepped me to a Canadian maple syrup liqueur.  Sortilege.  Canadian whiskey with maple syrup.  It's like the Drambuie of the Great White North.  Yummers.

Having dinner with friends today.  The invitation came with a comment I take as a compliment:  "Your company is like comfort food."  Which naturally affected my efforts to identify what to bring for the table.  Found a recipe for maple syrup cake in a recent Bon Apetit.  Calls for two cups of Grade B syrup.  Perfect.  Will be making that, and can bring the Sortilege as a house gift that echoes the maple theme.

Naturally, the issue of perfume is on my mind.  Maple theme.  Have been wanting to try this perfume that Nathan Branch reviewed, Bucheron by Claude Andre Hebert.  (Diacritical marks totally avoided.)  Have yet to put hands or nose upon it.  Still want to.  Meanwhile, as it turns out, I have found another maple syrup/immortelle goodie:  Immortelle L'Amour, from Ayala Moriel perfumes.  I ordered a sample based on Ayala's story of how she constructed the scent for comfort in her blog, and in Heather Ettlinger's mention of it in her Memory and Desire project.  (Is it really two years since Heather did this?  This project was part of my propulsion down the rabbit hole of scent.  If you haven't roamed through it, you really should take some time to wander.  Perfumers and their interpretation of a poem.  It's wonderful.)  Anyway, I was able to sample it today.  Gourmandy goodness.

Sortilege (the liqueur, not the perfume house) arrived a few weeks ago.  Immortelle L'Amour arrived the other day.  In the word of fellow blogger Abigail over at I Smell Therefore I Am, both are "numilicious."

Maple syrup for the opening of spring.  No need to tap any trees.

So, today's pairing is:

Sortilege liqueur
  -- with --
Immortelle L'Amour 

Why?  Both liberally employ maple syrup (/immortelle), both are cozy, both linger, both invite investigation while comfortably ensconced in an overstuffed club chair.  Why now?  There will still be cool nights and grey rainy days that would be well served by this kind of comfort.  There must be a reason Mother Nature sends the sap flowing in preparation for warmer days ahead.

Enjoy a slice of maple syrup cake with either.  With wishes for a Happy Easter, and belated wishes for a pleasant Passover, for those who take note.  I will be sipping, sniffing and listening to the trees as the landscape turns green.

Dirt and Mothering

Mothers know a lot about dirt.

Dirt that needs a bath.  Dirt that needs laundry.  Dirt that the dog brought in.  Dirt that one neighbor tries to offer about another.  Dirt that just won't get out from under the fingernails.  Dirt that gathers into an astonishing mega dust bunny within 24 hours of a vacuuming.

(Hmmm...maybe that's more than 24 hours...but boy, those "bunnies" sure can grow to impressive diameter.)

Anyway, I happen to be a fan of dirt.  Because I'm a gardener.  I like the way dirt smells.  Humus, quality loam, potting soil...I love it all.  I'm a fan of the right dollop of dirt in certain perfumes, too.  Of course, there are variations on what "dirt" means to different sniffers.  Today, since I am chomping at the bit and go out and dig in my own little patch of green, I'm going to offer up a couple of recent favorite scents with "real" dirt inside.

CB I Hate Perfume Wild Hunt   Yum, yum...and not in a gourmand way.  Not at all.  This is violets on the forest floor, remembering there is green about you, and you get to go for a ride and continue deeper into the woods and stop and smell the humus.  The smell takes you up above the ground to discover the violets (which waft a bit in the air), and then drops you down on the ground again, then mixes them around.  Nice.

Ayala Moriel Rainforest  Okay here's a brand new one to my sniffer, and I am infatuated.  Brings together a couple of passions of mine, galbanum and dirt, on either end of a really fun deep dark dense evolution from one to the other.  Oh, lawsy, where Wild Hunt lets you linger a few feet above the ground on the waft of violets, Rainforest insists you stick with the leaves and the needles and the ground and remember that this growing thing is vegetal, baby.  Ayala calls it a "coniferous chypre," and I can see why.  Vaguely resiny, definitely the green of a mixed forest.  Remember, rainforests don't just exist in tropical zones...you can also meander through a rainforest near the 45th parallel on the Pacific coast.  You won't find piranhas, but should be prepared to encounter socks with Birkenstocks. 

I'm heading out to dig, which has become a traditional Mother's Day gift to me:  protected time in the garden, with ready labor as requested.

Happy Mother's day to all who mother, and all who are remembering their mothers.