Sans Rival...with chocolate and pecans

yum.

In a fit of Christmas spirit, between doses of Percocet, advil, aspirin, and massive amounts of coffee, I made another Sans Rival, this time with a chocolate walnut daquoise and chocolate buttercream frosting.

Which is to say two things:

Thing one

I returned from Saint Pete's (the Burg), Florida, only to wake up the following night with a throbbing wise tooth. A throbbing like no other pain. The kind of throbbing that makes you want to bash the side of your face with a brick. If you could just find a brick. Or maybe (you start to think as you're laying in the fetal position on the couch softly moaning, tears streaming down your face) you could bash your face into the corner of the back of a kitchen chair.  Or the side of the table. Anything with an edge...

I spent the mid-night hours googling emergency dentists on my phone. I called one the second it opened, roused my husband for a ride, and promptly had a tooth pulled.

adding cocoa to the daquoise--makes it comes out all chocolatey and amazing

The tooth pulled? A wisdom tooth I had an agreement with for the past ten years (this is the same agreement I have with all insects/spiders in my house)--you don't bother me, I won't bother you.   

Well tooth: Agreement broken. Time to go.

An aside: Did you know that they don't anesthetize you when they pull out a tooth? Don't get me wrong, the doctor (who was twelve, I swear, and also wearing a holiday tie but not a white coat) stuck me with four shots of the most heavenly Novocain I've ever been alive to experience. However, I was fully awake for the pulling procedure, telling myself that it was all normal and good. (It wasn't, but I didn't care anymore. I was just so excited to be numb.)

the makings of buttercream. sugar boiled with water until it reaches thread stage

I saw the pliers and the tool that looked a lot like a screwdriver with which the twelve-year-old dentist (the end of his holiday tie now contained inside an opening made by unbuttoning the center button of his shirt) used as if prying off the lid on a paint can--all simple machine lever-like to pry out my tooth. Then I closed my eyes. I decided that I just didn't need to see the blood and any more creepy metal tools.

Also, at this point I was in supreme denial. Sure that after the initial recovery time, my life would be so much better. No more fetal position for at least a few more months.

Meanwhile, behind my closed eyes, it was clear that said tooth wasn't coming like it was supposed to. No matter. More levering, more pulling, more prying. It came out all blood and spit and Twelve Year Old Holiday Tie said, "AH HAH, the root is hooked!"

I love that you can whip egg yolks until they bubble and froth. who knew?

I asked to see said tooth and hook. And he was right. The tooth was hooked like a...well...fishing hook. Apparently it had come in as far as said hook would allow, and instead of coming up like the well-behaved tooth I had expected it to be--straight and even, like a well starched shirt--it was skirting sideways across my face like the Hook of Darkness, pulling my gums with it. Or so it felt.

Long story boring: I went home, took a bunch of Percocet, and a few naps. Holiday Tie had given me a double-sided mimeographed (copy of a copy of a copy) of emergency impaction tooth extraction aftercare which I followed to. the. letter.

(I'm good at directions.)

assembled. still ugly. also, it turned out to be the leaning tower of sans rival. no matter.

No matter. Two days later I was back in the fetal position, the Percocet not even beginning to touch the pain in my tooth hole. I called Holiday Tie to say...I think I have a dry socket.  His secretary got me right in.

Yay! I was right. Dry Socket.

I complained to Holiday Tie (no longer in said tie, and strangely now wearing a white coat). I followed your directions.

Yes, he said. But you're a young woman.

True, I said. (Waiting for it to become more obvious what was going on in our tete-a-tete. It didn't. I was forced to force the issue.)

What does that have to do with this? I asked.

Young women have hormones that don't allow a blood clot to stick around very often, he explained.

Super, I said. One more reason it's AWESOME to be a woman. I'm going to add that to my EVER-GROWING list.

There's a lot more drama in this story, but I'm getting exhausted telling it and reliving the jaw-aching, pain shooting down the side of my neck and into my arm experience. So I'll shorthand it for you like this: it's been over four weeks. I still have jaw/hole pain when I eat or breathe. I also get food stuck in said hole every time I eat, which makes everything hurt more. (YUM!)

So, when Holiday Tie told me that I was eventually going to have to get my three remaining wise teeth extracted, I wanted to slap his twelve-year-old face.

aerial view

Thing two
My dear friend Miss C held a small holiday gathering at her home. I asked (like the fabulous guest that I am) what I could bring. She answered, and I quote: "If you feel up to it I always welcome one of your desserts but no pressure."

Guess what I made?

Also, just for the record, it was delicious.