The Saddest Thing Since The Invention Of Jam

...is an empty jar of jam.

Particularly if it is Christine Ferber's Confiture de Framboise à la Violette (raspberry and violet jam). I held on to that one for months after buying it, not opening it until the heart of winter so it could act as my cheerful companion on those bleak mornings when you wake up and it's still dark, you get ready and it's still dark, you leave for work and it's still dark.

I guess it's only fitting I should get the last taste of it now, as we transition into spring (I know you know, I just can't quite stifle the joy, but why would I?) and mornings are so much brighter in every sense of the word.

But still, yesterday as I was leafing through my cherished breakfast magazine ELLE and its report of the Paris fashion week (never too early to get the dish about Fall/Winter 2005 trends), I was shocked to realize that yes, however much I scraped at the angled sides of the jar with my special square Italian ice-cream spoon (very handy) and in last resort a small piece of bread, that was indubitably the end of it.

It's not like I can complain about my pantry being even remotely lacking in the way of sweet n' spreadable goods, it's just that this one was really really good, and a somewhat hard-to-find flavor. And that simply means one thing: time to plan a little trip to Niedermorschwihr!