Predictably, we spent a bulk of the weekend XC skiing. I could post some photos of us skiing, posing and freezing in the scenic woods of New Hampshire, but the litany of XC skiing photographs on this website is becoming an ode to my vanity.
And besides, XC skiing isn’t all about the skiing, the nature, and the sexy pants. It’s also about the fondue. Yesterday, as we were ascending a black-diamond trail gravely called Criterion, I was calculating how many burnt calories would result from our 4 1/2 hour day of XC skiing in 15-degree weather. Based on standard calorie charts and my own gut instinct, I’d say 500 calories per hour just for the activity, plus another 250 just because it’s freaking cold outside. That’s about 2500 extra calories that I need to consume lest my trademark pear shape lose its curvaceousness. That sounds like a job… for fondue!
Mr. P whipped up a batch of his traditional Gruyere and Emmenthal fondue with white wine, cornstarch, Kirsch, and a half-clove of garlic “for digestion” (as if a mere fleck of garlic all but guarantees the smooth digestion of a half-pound of cheese.) His fondue has improved markedly ever since he scaled back on the amount of wine from a half-bottle to a cup.
“No cheese course tonight?” is my standard joke after we’ve finished the fondue and moved onto the cleansing plain green salad. But the satiety factor of fondue is incredibly high, and soon after the salad our cheese-stuffed stomachs call for reprieve, our legs demand to be horizontal, and our eyes refuse to remain open.
