[The recipe box and other little stories]
1. A feature I’d been wanting to do for ever: a recipe box on the front page of the blog. You can access it by clicking on the link in the navbar above or scrolling to the bottom of any page.
Réussir le fondant pâtissier blanc, pas à pas – Mastering white pâtissier fondant, step by step
One of the first things you see through a boulangerie-pâtisserie window in France is a herd of glazed éclairs and choux. Pretty in pink, brown, white, and more often than not, green too.
Comme la rosée des matins d’été – Confiture de concombre à la vanille
[Not unlike summer morning dew - Cucumber and vanilla jam]
I walked in mud and bought some vintage tupperwares at a vide-grenier. I saw waves bigger than life. I felt them too.
Les vagues
[The waves]
I drove along the coast on Sunday. It was raining. Of the fast windscreen wipers kind. And the wind would push waves on the road.
I stopped. And my cheeks turned pink.
Surprise, surprise – Madeleines aux framboises
[Raspberry madeleines]
This morning, the sky turned black, of the bruised kind. And then, clouds started to grumble, roar really. For minutes. And before we knew it – {insert French accent here} surprise, surprise {end of French accent} – rain was pouring down in the kitchen window.
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.
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.
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.
Bonjour avril
[Hello April]
My weeks have been made of Sundays lately. And it really feels like walking with my eyes closed and crossing my fingers at every step I take.
Not unlike getting lost.
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.
Through the wrong end of a telescope
I look through the window. And this is all I see. Rain and trees that snow.
The very spectacle of April happening before my eyes. But no matter how breathless it makes me feel – every single year – I somehow wish for more.
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.
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.
She fell in love with…
A rainbow kind of sky, as seen from my bike. It was so beautiful it made me question my love for dawn over sunset.
Ohhh such important matters…
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.