Went on a little roadtrip yesterday afternoon with my mother--I just had to escape Toni Morrison for awhile, and Mom is usually ready to go anywhere if she doesn't have to do the driving. We don't get to hang out enough, so sometimes these little trips are in order. We made a stop at Herrschners, which is always a slightly dangerous place for me. Especially if I have money. I managed to get out of there with only minor damage to the checking account, only picking up three skeins of yarn for a shawl-in-progress. I can browse in there for hours if left alone, fondling the merchandise. :-D The real danger came on the trip back, when we swung off the highway to this place. They must have known I was coming, because as we walked in the door a woman walked out from the back room carrying bags of cheese curds. Fresh curds. Warm cheese curds. Oh my god, WHITE cheese curds. 'Scuse me while I wipe the drool off my chin. Ok, better now. Carrying my two precious bags of warm, squeaky cheese curds (I swear, they were squeaking in the bag!), I wandered around the rest of the retail store, looking at various offerings of cheeses and sausages shaped like beer bottles. And then I found it. Lemon curd. Lime curd. Oh my. This was one of my favorite treats back in England. I think the English used it in every dessert they made, from tarts to trifles. It was on everything. It's sorta like a custard, sorta like a jam--and tart and sweet as a lemon drop candy. Mom asked what you do with it, would you put it on toast?-- but I had to honestly tell her that I never bothered with spreading it on anything. The only way I remembered eating it was right out of the jar with a spoon. Good thing I didn't have a spoon in the car.