This is the gif I told you about.
Wind as a token of my love for colder days.
Days made of rain pouring down the windows. And a roaring sky. Oh and the occasional lightning too, welcomed with more vowels than our alphabet offers.
Yes, autumn is on its way, and really, I could not wish for more.
Give me more:
Some days are ok. Others are grand. I remember that day when we felt like we owned the world. Kissing at every street corner and not even noticing the happy dance snowflakes made around us.
Yes, that was an august day. And a august-er night, in the winter.
And some days are not so grand. But that’s part of the game. A game we don’t choose to play. And yet we’re here, one step forward, at times two, and three steps backward.
Pulled up and down.
Not unlike a roller coaster.
Not unlike surfing on the waves I thought we’d be in by now.
Yes, today was not the best day. But I put on my favourite red lips. And that dress that floats when I spin. And I spinned, and cried a little too, in the tube. And I made a gif. And had gnocchi, pan-fried with butter until crisp with gold on the out-kind-of-side and yet, soft as a pillow on the in-side. With a side of ketchup, for only excuse that it felt right.
And slowly, like a merry-go-round that never ends, the cacophony turned into music. And really, there was no better place to be than safely nested against that wooden horse. In fact, there is a better place to be, but of this, I will tell you later.
Some stories only belong to grand days.
Give me more:
Guys, it’s eight pm. And I’m sitting in my bed. Looking at the sun playing hide-and-seek through the City. Perhaps, I took a picture with my phone. And one with my minolta instant pro too. And perhaps, even with my forgotten love who goes by the name of sx70.
It’s been great around here these days.
Even if I’m the only person in London to have a cold. Even if I haven’t had a days off in ages. Even if it’s so hot in the kitchen, I’ve had to give up tempering chocolate.
Because you see, I have my desserts on a menu. Printed in a pretty font. With fancy words.
There is something with strawberries and a rhubarb sorbet. And olive oil too, because that’s how I roll. There is a milk chocolate and salted butter caramel tart, sort of. There is a summer pudding, the French way; with the same brioche my grand-mother always makes: tons of butter and a touch more, and an elderflower berry compote-ish. There is a caramelised pineapple with bits of coconut dacquois, and the pinkiest hibiscus and lemongrass sorbet. There is a chocolate and honey lava cake with roasted apricots. And honeycomb too. Because it’s crunchy and I kinda love it.
Because you see, the berries are pretty amazing this year and my freezer has now turned into a trendy pink ombré.
Because you see, my friend Rachel thinks this little blog is khool.
Because you see, I make crazy experiments. The lastest was a basil pâte de fruit(s). It went with fresh strawberries, and a Pimm’s and lemonade sorbet. I will tell you about it soon.
And just so you get ready, James and I are planning on making a Pimms’s and lemonade pâte de fruits roly-poly. It should be grand. So brace yourself!
And I know I missed the farewell to July and the bonjour to August, but really, does it matter when you have basil pâte de fruits instead?
Give me more: