Les biscuits de Noël


[Christmas cookies] This morning, I walked to the shop – warm boots, cosy jumper and wool scarf bigger than I am – and bought three kilos of flour, two of caster sugar, one of light brown sugar. There was eggs (twelve) and seven blocks of butter too. And ground almonds. And candied cherries. And candy […]

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Pommes de terre

svante potatis

[Potatoes] Tonight, we dug potatoes (but really, doesn’t their French name imply so much more: earth apples) from the ground. They’re being boiled. And bacon and falukorv are being fried in a cast iron pan that has probably seen many and manier. Eggs are cooking. And just like this pyttipanna will happen for dinner.

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And there are dragonflies

summer house-18

We drove and drove. It seems roadtrips are always involved whenever we are in Sweden – and really, I’m not complaining. And while I have so many things to tell you: that one drink Jessica made for us; the roadtrip we took to the mountains, fishing on a lake at three in the morning, under […]

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The August break #2 – Pattern

bubble tea

A list of patterns from today. K’s eggs and bacon for breakfast. ♥ The evening sun through the blinds, projecting shadows on our wall. ♥ The fact that no matter how many times I’ve done it, I’ll forever be the worst at packing. Anxiety attack included. ♥ Tickles down my neck. ♥ Matcha bubble tea for […]

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Press pause


Exactly three months ago, I told you this: a list of things I need to blog about: the launch of #parispastryclub kannelbulle croissants, rhubarb and mascarpone cake, the best brioche! — fanny zanotti (@cacahuete) May 1, 2014 And that too: another list of things I need to blog about: some really exciting news, an amazing […]

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I’ll be left with cinnamon croissants


I guess like all good things, Sundays have to come to an end too. Today was a good Sunday. We went to bed late enough to wake up mid-morning. Crumpets happened. I might have eaten two with homemade raspberry jam from last summer. And we braved the rain – the mostest perfect excuse for a […]

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La rhubarbe


I remember the rhubarb my grand-père used to grow in the garden. It was thick and green; and would be turned into jar-after-jar of compote which my grand-mère always kept in that little cupboard in the garage. On top of my grand-père’s tools, always neatly organised. One day, I’ll show you that garage. We would […]

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