
Whatever happened to vol-au-vents? I remember having them for the first time at a party at my Aunt Pam's house, filled with creamy mushrooms and chicken. Utterly intoxicating. (My mother didn't make them -- a minimalist, she preferred to layer pieces of smoked salmon and dill onto small pieces of pumpernickel in the Norwegian style, or freshly peeled prawns on a tiny square of toast with an elegant swirl of mayonnaise and a sprig of parsley.) At the same party at my aunt's house, I remember falling in love with Simon & Garfunkel's Bridge Over Troubled Water album, as I sat with my older brothers and sisters, and our cousins and their hippy friends, as they sang along, all slightly tipsy, cigarettes in hand, to The Boxer.
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