I recently made a last minute decision and attended a Tart Festival with a friend.
No, not that kind of tart, although based on some of my recent encounters, like the guy who called me at work and my cell number popularity, I can see why you might be raising your eyebrows. Then again, you also don’t know my friend!
This Tart Festival involved butter tarts. An entire outbuilding in the Fair Grounds lot lined with bakery kiosks displaying nothing but butter tarts. Each bakery had won trophies in their local Fairs, and they were duking it out for the title: Queen of Tarts.
Judges were blind tasting tarts from every bakery, looking for things like colour, thickness of pastry and ooziness.
There were some interesting flavours involving alcohol (Kahlua and Fire Whiskey), meat (bacon), and candy (marshmallow and skittles). But, like my Dad, I’m a traditionalist, so I brought home 6 butter tarts: plain, pecan, maple, maple walnut, raisin…and pecan again (because I like candied nuts)!
It only seemed appropriate (when you’re at a tart festival) to slink over to the Designer Shoe Sale next door. We weren’t willing to pay designer prices, even designer sale prices, but we had fun checking out the fashions. Rows and Rows of shoes.
Feathers and ruffles. Sunny golden suns and sweet tarts. Patent leather and satin. Chunky heels and super spikes. Buckles and straps. And things I couldn’t quite identify!
We also amused ourselves by checking out the heavily-laden baskets of some of the shoppers. “Lady Gaga” amused us the most. She was a tiny, heavy set middle aged lady with thin, greasy grey hair. But she was following my manifesto and who am I to judge?
Sweet tarts and sexy shoes… a perfect weekend tour for a couple of “tarts”, right?
If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun. – Katherine Hepburn