Raspberry Snow

It is raining outside. We have a cool front moving in. Golden leaves are washing down the street. There is a coziness to it. Nice and dry inside. The birds are all quiet. I have to make my tea. While the water's heating, I can tell you what I was thinking and why I named this one what I did.It is a mountain village, a private luxe retreat. If you read Marne Davis Kellogg's jewel thief book, Perfect, you will know the spa I mean. To recover the queen's stolen jewels Kick must leave her cozy home in Provence, "suit up" in the design houses of Paris and finagle an invitation to a very unpublished private mountain spa to track down the goods. That is where the suspected former royal assistent is living with an opera star. Complete with private horse drawn sleds, spa treatments and a butler.( I could get used to that for a week or two, okay a month maybe six.) When I looked for what distinguished this tart, what made it so special. I looked at the placement of the berries and the dusting of the snow. It seemed to come alive. I tried to put some luxury, some softness and some light. The berries are so luscious. The cream so very fresh. The cake is light and perfect. The best of the best for us. Nothing less will do. The berries are all situated, you have to give them space, as if walking over the snow covered custard on boot covered feet. Our own petit retreat. Elevated. Given it's own spotlight. Yum for us. Isn't it fun imagining? So thank you Marne. Here's to you Kick. How you suffer for your art! Sign me up.