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?