Poor Clementine. The darling may be lost and gone forever but her banjo-plucking eulogist doesn't sound dreadful sorry. Listen, this bit of Americana twangs, you can stub your toe, fall into the foamy brine and live on in a perky tune. Dreadful sorry!
The young don't seem disturbed by their diet of dreadful ditties. Those poor blind mice. Jack and Jill with their head injuries. That baby stranded in a tree. They grasp hands and turn in giddy circles, shouting with black plague nostalgia: "Ashes! Ashes! We all fall down!"
Now Clementine's back as a darling mandarin. The thin skin is easy to peel and perfect in a recipe that calls for dropping the whole fruit _ juicy segments, sweet peel and sharp pith _ into the foamy batter.
Clementine cake bakes up moist and fragrant with just a whiff of bitter. Downright upbeat, given Clementine's fateful fate.
