On thunderstoms and first kisses – Caramelised Jerusalem artichoke velouté
It’s been oh-so-quiet around here lately. Perhaps, that’s what happens when I have too much to say, too much to do, too much to look forward to.
But last night, I saw the dark sky turn into fireworks. And I heard the thunder grumble. And I smelled the earth get damp through a window that has been open – if ever so slightly – for weeks now.
And I might have been half-asleep when that happened (so much for non-drowsy cough syrups) but it felt like the most beautiful dream. Only it wasn’t one.
It was there, around me.
Thunderstorms are a thing so rare in London they become treasures you remember like a first kiss.
And while I could tell you about how he made me forget everything I thought I knew, I’m here with a soup instead.
As a reminiscence of cold winter nights and unspoken words. As a celebration of the smell of rain, which we might disregard now that pims-and-lemonade days are ahead of us.
As my winter comes to an end – for good this time – so many other things do too. Bruises on my legs and cuts on my fingers; journeys over the Thames, late at night…
But I have the feeling you’re going to see a lot more of me these days.
To new beginnings!
Serve piping hot. Preferably with a drizzle of truffle oil, more-than-a-drizzle of crème fraiche, and some butter-toasted croutons.
And in front of you will stand a bowl of the soup that is not just a soup; but a concentrate of winter, and kisses under the rain, and goodbyes that makes your perfect eye-lined eyes get a little more grungy.
Lucy
Apr 14, 2012
That’s funny, I felt that too, last night. Your soup sounds lovely, thank you for the inspiration.
No matter how far away we live, I think we’re somehow connected ;) Love.
Jeanette
Apr 15, 2012
as always Fanny, great gif animation!! you could be a writer with all your collections, really. :D
Thank you so much Jeanette. x
Lucia
Apr 15, 2012
Todai it rains, here in Italy. It smells like kisses, naps, books read by the fireplace and cats sleeping. It’s a perfect day for your soup, indeed!
marghe@lechatdesucre.com
Apr 15, 2012
Beautiful! Beautiful soup, beautiful story, beautiful images! But…does it mean that you are going to leave London or I am reading too much into it? Lots of love to you, Fanny!
Ooooh no. London forever. It’s just the end of something and the beginning of something new – and hopefully – exciting! xx
Dame Ccile
Apr 16, 2012
Beautiful! your writing is like poetry, I’ve only discovered your blog recently and I’m looking forward to reading you soon.
Take care
grand mère
Apr 16, 2012
ah ah la soupe au topinambours, BISOUS G M ??? ET SES MONSTRES aujourd’ui s’est CALME +++++°°°°
Karamelliserad jordärtskockssoppa
Apr 17, 2012
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frances
Apr 17, 2012
I have a feeling you only write to us when you are ill?! But your drowsy musings leave many exciting things to be anticipated, as ever. Bon courage! xx
Haha perhaps that’s because the only time I actually have time is when I’m ill. Being a chef keeps you busier than you’d think. xx