scones

Not unlike living in cotton – Scones, scones, scones…

So it seems I’ve told you I’d see you soon with tips for the perfect scones. Apparently, soon can hold different meanings.

A birthday to the sound of drum n’ bass, and glow-sticks around my wrists. Days on a bed that has become my work place, writing the book I should tell you more about.

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root-veg

On clouds blanketing everything we see – Roast chicken and root vegs

An hour ago, I took a whole – 1,5kg kind of whole – chicken out from the oven. Just for myself.

You see it started this morning when I first opened my curtains to a day where clouds blanket everything we see.

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scones

Everyday magic

I made scones today. Twice, because two seems to be a trending number these days. Same recipe, except for five extra grams of milk.

And somehow, no matter how long I have been a pastry chef for, I’m still amazed by how details matter.

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ooops

Oops #2

I don’t know what just happened on ebay, but I seem to be the newest owner of - not one but – two Le Creuset cocottes. I guess the advices my friend Richard gave me on how to win a bid kind of worked!

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coffee chocolate self-saucing caked

The end – Coffee and chocolate self-saucing cake

The end. Of this, that is.

I was writing when the timer went off. Upstairs, sitting cross-legged in front of my laptop.

It wasn’t as cold as the outdoors would suggest. Perhaps, from the oven. Or the sweater he must have draped over me while I was reading words that once were thoughts.

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jerusalem artichoke veloute

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.

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spring blossoms

Bonjour mars, au revoir mars

[Hello March, goodbye March]

I’ve felt raindrops running through my hair; and my dress too. I’ve made a cake. And another one too.

I’ve seen blossoms on every tree. I’ve walked in empty avenues, with my eyes closed and his hand on mine.

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eclair tronc

Fields of frost – Éclairs au chocolat, presque comme chez Fauchon

[Chocolate eclairs, almost like Fauchon's]

When trees are shaped like hearts; and breakfast means just-brewed coffee slash bike ride slash jonchée eaten as soon as I’ve taken my gum boots off.

And we run barefoot in fields of frost. And the grass glows to the moonlight in a way only gems can.

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egg-disaster

Oops #1

Three cuts and eight eggs on the floor later, the cake came out of the oven. As a reminder that heatproof means heatproof, and not just a random glass bowl.

You see disasters happen in my kitchen too. Most likely even more than in yours.

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a cake too

PS. I felt like cake; made one and ate a slice.

A friend, of the dear-to-my-heart kind, made this cake today. A few thousands of kilometres away. And I did too. In ten minutes, from cupboards to oven*.

It was eaten on the couch. To the sound of summertime sadness**. And raindrops started hitting the kitchen window.

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flapjacks

Find a map and draw a straight line – Chewy flapjacks

I started collecting objects, to make up for memories I forgot. A blue pool ball, a broken cigarette, a plastic table number.

I read words. Most of the time, at night. Yes, all it took was a few words.

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olive-oil-jelly

Those three words – Gelée d’huile d’olives

[Olive oil jelly]

In autumn, with figs, a young brillat-savarin curd, and a warm sponge so full of vanilla seeds it’s almost grey. Perhaps, a few toasted and salted almonds for crunch.

In winter, with caramelised apples, a white chocolate granita – not unlike snow, crystallised rosemary, and fresh apple bubbles.

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