winter vanilla strawberry pie

An exquisite winter day. The sun is shining, telling us (without looking at the temperature) that it is cold today. In fact (because I did look) it's around -20, which is unusual here. The trees I see from where I am sitting -- birch, spruce, pine, cherry, oak, jasmine -- all laden with as much snow as the branches can balance. Snow drifts off in clumps and showers as it becomes too much to bear. With the low-hanging winter sun behind, the blue sky is filled with sparkling confetti. Our rather long driveway is shoveled, and a fire smoking and popping in the living room -- although the charm of the open fireplace has rather worn off and become more of a necessity than a convenience.

I am contemplating making some kind of comfort food. Cheesecake? Lemon loaf or raisin bread? Something spicy and meaty? My devious side prompts me towards raisin bread, knowing Martin hates cooked raisins (poison) and I could have it all to myself. What a nice little wife I am. But I am eating for two, people insist. (Why is it that so many people say that? I can't recall ever saying such a thing to someone, but I am hearing quite often, despite the fact that I am eating rather normal portion sizes and have no real cravings.)

Speaking of food, Martin has introduced me to something so yummy, so fragrant, crunchy, and gooey it's almost tragic to say "McDonald's" after. A piping-hot vanilla strawberry pie from McDonald's, fresh from the deepfryer and smelling like donut heaven. (Why am I feeling like I sound like Homer?) And, since I am pregnant and can supposedly use it to excuse all kinds of excess and eccentricities, I will go further. I admit with only a tiny cringe of shame -- I like McDonald's. I like salty french fries, cheeseburgers, Big Macs, and hot fudge sundaes. I love Egg McMuffins and deepfried hashbrowns. And because it all tastes virtually the same as it ever did, familiarity is the most divine flavour of all. This isn't because I am pregnant, either. Martin can attest to it. It mostly happened after moving to Sweden. If there is a sure way to cheer me up it's the suggestion, "Want to go to McDonald's?"

Now I have spilled a deep-fried, dark 'secret' on the most pure and sunny winter day. Delicious.