Rose Confit

Super awesome grocery store discovery of the week:



Man, the french will turn anything into confit (preserves.) Luckily for me, this rule applies not only to duck and garlic but to rose petals as well. I have a weak spot for anything floral flavored. Just ask my bag of candied lavender or my bottle of orange blossom water waiting back in the U.S. for me.

So I brought home the rose petal confit with no special plans for it, other than spreading it on my morning tartine or spooning a dollop on top of my post dinner yogurt. But last night, I walked into the kitchen and discovered Belinda eating (what I thought was) a quesadilla. I yelled "quesadilla" and Belinda looked back at me blankly while Matthias laughed. I realized I was in France and quesadilla shaped things in France are called crêpes. Belinda had once again created a delicious sugary french treat and was kind enough to share.



The rose crêpe eating commenced and I disintegrated into a pool of ecstasy. I wonder if I should go back to the gourmet supermarché and buy the 12euro jar of hibiscus blossoms to put into flutes of champagne...