"quiche"spirations

The other evening, I came to a realization over my quiche. I came into knowing not only how I love it so but also the heart strings it just tugs on. This love of mine for quiche, inspires me- to live a little larger. quiche that is, nudges me on to live that first class life, literally. It's always there for you when you need it. An omelette with a crust, I mean, how universal! It can be eaten at any moment--breakfast, brunch... even linner. While inhaling my brocolli cheddar quiche for dinner the other evening, all of my quiche filled memories flooded ye old brain, and I began to understand just why this quiche takes me to a lovely land. Eating outside at the Botanic Gardens with friends one evening, I felt positively European eating quiche with wine. Those two chums go well together, but then again, what doesn't with wine then, yes? Then I remembered the day I fell in love with quiche, for all of the feelings it inspires.

In my youngin' days, all of my school breaks were spent with my dear Dad, Jim-bo, and soulmate stepmom Mary Sue. Starting at age 6 when they moved to Colorado, I'd pack up my Jansport backpack full of notebooks, markers and books, say bye to my Mom and walk on down the jetway with an escort, who would sit me in my coach class seat. For one whole day of traveling, I was free to eat my Oreo's first and skip my fruit. I could use my emergency $20 on frozen yogurt with colored sprinkles and no one but my escort would know.

Florida to Colorado always required a layover in those days, usually in Ft. Worth, Texas. And in the winter, the weather would sometimes wreck havoc and on one spectacular occasion, this havoc was my haven. Here's how it all went down, and the quiche inspiration sprang up in my heart.

I was probably ripe old 8 or 9. I landed in Texas and there was a whole lotta commotion going on when my escort and I traveled through the airport on one of those beeping vehicles that move people through the airport slower than one could walk. When we arrived at my gate, something happened, it was cancelled, or delayed by a million years.... or just my angels delivering my days destiny. As a kiddo, I imagine, those airlines want you off of their responsibility list and into the safe, loving arms of any parent they can scrounge up, ASAP. So, they get you on plane, darnit, as soon as they can. This meant, NOW on that dear day. We sprinted through the terminal, "just like in Home Alone" I thought as I raced behind my escort and right up to a peaceful, empty gate where a pretty stewardess was waiting for me in front of the open door. The two responsible adults exchanged a quick report which included something about the plane being held for me and we had to HURRY! The hand off of papers occured and thru the breezeway we scampered and that pretty lady that looked liked Glinda the good witch, sat me in the very first seat that was open, which ladies and gentlemen, was in FIRST CLASS.

The plane moved away from the gate seconds later and I looked around stunned at the men in business suits around me that we much to busy reading their newspapers without any pictures (wall street journal?) to notice me. I didn't get to comfy at first because I thought for sure that when we were up in the air they would move me back to my "real' seat in coach. But, when the flight attendant came to me next, instead she asked what I wished to drink, and delivered my ginger ale in what just had to be "crystal," for sure. I could hardly contain my excitement about sitting up there in such luxury, but, I decided that I had to be my most mature and polite self, I had to pull off my princess power, and act like this was quite natural.

Glinda came next to take my meal order. Would I like French Toast or Quiche? Are you kidding? Even today this ranks as the hardest meal decision I could face. But, any princess would order Quiche of course, and so, I did. And out it came, with a cloth napkin and "crystal" salt and pepper shakers. I looked around as if to say to the neighbors around me, "are you seeing this?!" That in-flight meal was never so savored, so delicately eaten. My manners have probably never been so polished, as those moments with my first-class quiche.

And so the love endures.....