Visiting the Poached Pair

Summer, 10 am in Santa Clarita doesn't lend to longings of hot beverages. But after15 years of trying American pastries I have found that an unadulterated hot beverage is the perfect weapon to combat the sweetness that dominates the scones, cup-cakes, biscotties and all that morning fare. So, I ordered a hot coffee at The Poached Pair this morning, no cream or sugar. After that, I ordered one each of their cranberry orange and maple oatmeal scones. I got a bacon-cheddar-chive one to go as well. Marcie rang my order on her I-pad and with a touch of the screen a drawer opened underneath the impecable grey marble countertop and she gave me a receipt and change. I put some change in a tin cup labeled "tips" and noticed a perfecty woven basket holding some yellow and green summer squash onsale for 50 cent each.
I sat close to the bay window overlooking Lyons Avenue Memories of early dates at the old Java and Jazz in the Victoria Plaza flooded my brain, and I reached for the comfort of the cranberry scone. I tasted the crispy airy crumb of the scone and tangy bits of cranberry wrapped in the orange-sugary glaze. The mouth was happy to taste all things at once and sweetness was only part it.  It wasn't super sweet. My coffee weapon was not needed. I was disarmed.  I tried the maple oatmeal scone too. That was another level of comfort. The type you need on a cold day. The rich maple and chewy oatmeal made this scone taste almost like a cookie. Marcie the owner, had come close by and asked me what I thought. We talked about their pastries the other part of the pair. Her daughter who had graduated culinary school one year ago. She said her daughter had gone to Costco to get the butter they forgot to order from their normal vendor Altadena. She said Fridays are service days; sure enough in addition to the other customers, the place was busy with the mail-person, gas-person, icemaker-service person and so on. 

A lady from Camarrilo walked in with her daughter. She said they had dropped the boys at Magic Mountain and had come to taste the cupcakes they followed through the shop's facebook page. We all talked about the process of making the frosting. Marcie mentioned that for the strawberry cupcakes she has to make a swiss cream and then add a few extra steps once adding the strawberries. It is labor intensive and time-consuming so she and her daughter have resisted opening the venue at night or have  live music like Java 'n Jazz once had.  They have chosen to focus on their craft. I found that admirable.  I learned that they had opened on a Friday nine weeks ago and have celebrated the opening every week. I hope they continue to do so. Next week I plan to go and try their biscotti.

Morning plums

These days I'm walking more frequently and for longer periods of time. Our second dog Archie loves these outings and so does my waistline. Certainly not a creature of routines, I try to break the monotony by inventing different loops around the neighborhood. But route repetition is inescapable, the neighborhood sights are so familiar now and I have started noticing even the slightest changes. Most cacti now have flowers; people beautify their surroundings cactus the other day I spied one sidewalk's newly laid concrete adorned with hearts and initials. I have noticed door flags that herald Valentines day replaced by a four- leaf- clover flag which in turn was taken down and then replaced by graduation cap flags hanging proudly. Recently my attention is held captive by orbs in all shades of red, orange and purple hanging from the trees. They were flowers a few months ago and through the rainy days the resilient little things just hung tight in their branches. Here they are now, all grown up, aromatic, sweet and ever so tempting. Peaches, apricots, plumbs. Each time I see them I want to go, reach, grab and fill a basket with the fresh fruit. Sometimes I feel a strong urge to knock on the lucky fruit tree owner's door, offer a few dollars for a bagful. But I never do any of this. Instead Archie and I walk by these beauties and leave them to squirrels and the crows and a whole lot more closeted fruitarians of the animal kingdom that make south Newhall/Valencia their home.
Walking down my street this morning, I ran into a woman who was picking some Santa Rosa plums from her very productive front yard plum tree. The jingle of Archie's tag against the collar distracted her from her plums. She looked down and we exchanged "good morning" greetings. But then she quickly read my mind and offered a zip-lock bag of plums. I was as stunned as I was thankful about her psychic abilities and generosity. With a dozen ripen plums from my neighbors tree to brighten my morning, I walked back home smiling. This morning the universe aligned just perfectly.