Wannaskan Almanac for Tuesday, July 1, 2025 I Do Eclair

It is Canada Day, our northern neighbor's version of Indepedence Day.  How do they celebrate?  With pastries...French ones!  So let's talk eclairs, shall we? Those long, golden, vaguely phallic pastries that wink at you from behind the bakery glass. Oh, they seem innocent enough, don't they? A delicate choux pastry, a whisper of creamy filling, and a smooth, elegant glaze. They whisper promises of sophisticated snacking, a refined indulgence for the discerning palate. But don't let their fancy French name and polished appearance fool you. Eclairs are, in reality, mischievous little devils in disguise, plotting the downfall of your perfectly respectable afternoon.

First of all, the eating process is a minefield. You think you can just casually bite into one? Think again. That seemingly sturdy pastry shell has a secret, crumbly agenda. One wrong move and you're suddenly wearing half of it as a jaunty lapel decoration. The filling, oh, the glorious filling, which moments ago seemed so contained, has a remarkable talent for escaping at the most inopportune moment, usually landing with laser-like precision directly onto your best silk shirt. It's a culinary ambush, I tell you!

And the glaze! Don't even get me started on the glaze. It looks so smooth, so inviting. But it's a sticky trap, my friends. One touch and your fingers are instantly glued together like you've been wrestling a particularly enthusiastic toddler wielding a jar of jam. You'll spend the next five minutes trying to discreetly wipe the goo onto a napkin, only to find it has now migrated to your cheek and possibly your left eyebrow. Elegance? Forget about it. You're now engaged in a silent, sticky battle of attrition with a pastry.

Then there's the sheer audacity of their deliciousness. They lull you into a false sense of security with their light texture and seemingly reasonable size. "Oh," you think, "just one little eclair won't hurt." But then the creamy filling hits your taste buds, followed by the sweet, satisfying glaze, and suddenly you're reaching for another. And another. Before you know it, you've single-handedly decimated a tray of these deceptively dainty treats, and your stomach is protesting with the gentle rumble of a thousand tiny pastry explosions.

Let's not forget the inherent drama. The delicate balance between the airy pastry and the rich filling is a tightrope act worthy of Cirque du Soleil. Too much filling and the whole thing becomes a soggy mess. Too little, and you're essentially eating a slightly sweet, elongated crouton. The baker must possess the precision of a brain surgeon and the patience of a saint to achieve that elusive perfect eclair equilibrium. It's a culinary gamble every time you pick one up.

And the name! "Éclair" – French for "lightning." Are they suggesting the speed at which you devour them? Or perhaps the shocking realization of how many calories you've just inhaled? Or maybe it's the sudden jolt of pure, unadulterated sugary joy that zaps through your system. Whatever the etymology, it feels vaguely ominous, like a delicious warning you choose to completely ignore.

So, the next time you encounter an eclair, approach with caution. Admire its beauty from a safe distance. Acknowledge its deceptive charm. But remember the truth: beneath that polished exterior lies a tiny, delicious agent of chaos, ready to unleash a whirlwind of crumbs, sticky glaze, and undeniable temptation upon your unsuspecting self. You have been warned.

Despite all this, will I still eat an eclair if offered? Absolutely. Because sometimes, embracing the delicious chaos is exactly what the doctor (probably not a real doctor) ordered. Just make sure you have a stack of napkins handy, and maybe wear gloves. And perhaps consider eating it in a darkened room, where the evidence of your delightful struggle will be less apparent. You're welcome.

If you see someone wearing one of these, wish then happy Canada Day!