warm cupcakes, nearing midnight

Tonight, it's nearly midnight and I've been cooking and baking and stirring and whisking and tasting all night long. Tomorrow, we are having a party for a friend who will be married in August. And I'm responsible for Food For Twenty. We hope it will be a garden party...of sorts...if the weather agrees with our grand plans for ambiance on the porch. In any case, a friend came over this evening to keep me company. And she chatted and shared wine and wrapped pre-wedding presents while I crafted a menu of smoked salmon dip and brie with rapsberry preserves and cheddar pecan rounds and cupcakes and lemon tart. Doesn't that sound wonderful? I think so. Menus are important...almost like writing a story. It's a question of vision and compatibility. It requires thought. And plenty of recipe perusing (a favorite activity). I daydream about particular recipes. I really do. Who I'll make it for. What I'll pair it with. And that first taste of a labor-intensive recipe finally complete.

So, here I am at the end of the night, with all of these wonderful smells lingering happily in my house. It's nearly midnight, and my last batch of cupcakes are about to go in the oven, so I'll stay up just a few more minutes to see them through. The cupcakes and the lemon tart have mingled to create an indistinguishable but pleasant smell...something like warmth and comfort and anticipation and...home. I might have to close the porch door just to keep it inside my walls a little longer. So I can go to bed with this smell the last thing I remember before I fall asleep.