Thurscheese: Truffle Moliterno

All hail the champion!

Truffle Moliterno. Winner: Best Cheese

Granted, like most championships these days, this one was won with the help of an enhancing substance. In this case: A whole heaping bunch of ground up truffle. Not a light coat of truffle oil, not a sprinkling of dried powder, just deep veins of the stuff running through an otherwise pleasant firm sheep's-milk cheese and elevating it to almost obscene decadence. You can smell it through the plastic wrap. You can practically smell it through the refrigerator door. This is not a bad thing.*

So, while the other cheeses write irate op-ed pieces about the need for improved testing standards, I'll just be over here, truffling it up.

*It has been alleged that I emitted some sort of appreciative noises while consuming it, however these claims remain unsubstanciated.

Off Plum

As we move deeper into spring, the plum tree has stopped flowering:

See you next year, flowers.

And started plumming:

The early fruit often comes in out of focus.

It seems to be developing a lot of plums:

Look closely; they're there.

Looks like I'm going to have to come up with things to do with them:

I'll also need to plant some peppers.

The fig tree is also starting to get its act together:

Figging out.

And the greens remain well-defended:

No kale left behind!

Next time, on As the Garden Turns: More boxes, endless weeding (so. . . much. . . weeding), The War On Aphids, the great avocado dream.

What's That Smell?

After all these years of choosing my scents by how much I like the bottle, or whether it has my name, or how much the department store lady intimidates me, or whether Abigail hates it*, I have gotten actually interested in perfumes. I'm not sure what caused it (best guess-- delayed response to long-ago posts by the former Miss Plumcake), but I'm having fun.

Specifically, I'm having fun ordering small samples of various perfumes (they run about $5 each, which I agree is silly, but not that much in the grand scheme of things), trying them out and deciding what I think of them. At some point I will probably order, but for now I plan to enjoy the exploration. I highly recommend you do the same, if you're so inclined. Here are some of the ones I've tried so far:

What We Do In Paris Is Secret, A Lab On Fire-- I'm going to admit right up front that my selections are still based on names and bottles as much as anything. Because it's the internet and you can't smell them, and I'm no good at guessing whether I'll like something based on its list of "notes." So: Well done with the naming, people.

As far as the perfume itself, it's nice. (That's right; this is the kind of highly technical perfume criticism you can expect here.) Light and appealingly feminine, but not something that really stuck with me, either in how long it seemed to last or the impression that it made.


Tzora, Anat Fritz-- This, on the other hand, is nothing like what I would think I would like, but I find it really appealing. And it lasts forever-- I put on the same small amount I used of all the others, but I found myself going back and repeatedly sniffing my wrist throughout the day. Which I realize is wandering over into "creepy" territory, but at least it smells nice there.

Fun fact: When I went back to look at the ingredient list, I noticed that it had patchouli (or "patchouly" which I guess is also a word?) in it, and I had to come back and delete a line about how that was something I hated, because I obviously don't. Live and learn.


At the Beach 1966, CB I Hate Perfume-- Amazingly evocative of exactly what it says (though I'd say the datedoesn't need to be that precise, because the moment it took me too was a good twenty years later)-- Coppertone sunscreen and the ocean. But maybe it shouldn't be tried on in February, or maybe it's just that the happy times it invokes are so firmly in the past, because wearing it made me more sad than anything. And I couldn't help wondering-- wouldn't you get the same effect by just putting on the sunscreen? Plus, you'd be wearing sunscreen.


Opus III, Amouage-- Made almost no impression at all. It appears to be a perfume, with a scent, but despite having tried it on twice that's about all I could tell you about it.


Le Tabac, L'Antichambre-- For my second round I ordered the assortment from this line, and was pulling them out at random until I came down with this cold, which has prevented me from functioning as a normal human being and/or smelling anything. But I tried this one before the snot-wall descended and it does really smell like tobacco. Really nice tobacco, but still. I just am not that comfortable with smelling like two months worth of cigars, even very expensive ones.




*At some point in the past we discovered that we have diametrically-opposed perfume tastes, and ever since any conversation about them has included something like "Ugh, I hate this. Here."