[Japanese-style milk buns]
It was a night of early winter, I think. It was possibly raining. And dark.
I can’t remember for sure, but it seems right.
I weighed flour and water in a pan.
Bonjour août
[Hello August]
July felt like a summer storm. Of the quick, unexpected kind.
It was beautiful. And much unlike any other July that has crossed my path. The rain, the cold, the golden leaves covering the pavement.
Roadtrips et autres histoires – Cake au maïs, comme à Caravan
[Roadtrips and other stories - A cornbread just like at Caravan]
Sometimes, all I want is to put my warmest boots on, and escape to a place outside of time. I would drive there for hours.
Caravan
11-13 exmouth market, EC1R 4QD
http://www.caravanonexmouth.co.uk/
http://www.caravanonexmouth.co.uk/
My playground love. With his blue eyes and boyish smile. With his barefoot habit in the winter and his cute front teeth.
Yes, Caravan is just like this.
PS. Une brioche avec un peu plus de beurre
[PS. A brioche with a tad more butter]
London, sometime in April.
I made a brioche. In five minutes; and five days. We woke up early to shape and proof the dough.
Ensemble, c’est tout – Pancakes tous simples
[Together, that's all - Very simple pancakes]
It was a morning like no other.
That day, we woke up to clouds around us. Some call it fog, but living in the clouds somehow feels more right.
Du pain sur la planche
[Bread on the board]*
Other than grazing at the London sky for hours, being stuck in bed for the past six days has also given me the chance to learn that Oxford University is sort of breaking-up with the Oxford comma – now, we have a problem here; my life depends on serial commas (and this is no understatement).
On secrets and playing pretend – Hot chocolate tartine
I’ve been grazing at the sky lately. Sure it was from my bed, possibly half-asleep and not-just-half-deaf, but it was during day time.
Or so I think.
The clock said quarter to three (pm) but the rain made it all so dark it seemed like an hour past my bedtime.
China town
gerrard street, W1D 6JN
I’ve been living in a world made of pillows, blankets and duvet covers. It could be the most cosy place in the world – and usually feels like it – but right now, I dream of a trip to China town.
Mon écureuil
[My squirrel]
I might have a new friend. Same face. Same place. Just a couple of months later.
And yes, just as I did before, I’m writing this from a bed*.
Bonjour juillet
[Hello July]
The first night of July smelled like freshly-cut grass. We could hear planes over our heads and, at that exact moment, it reminded me the evening we spent sat on the sidewalk by the motorway.
One night of magic rush
I had forgotten how purposeless words can hold a special meaning. Just like driving endlessly on the smallest roads, with no possibility whatsoever to get lost since we have no destination.
And it feels like a moment outside of time.
Le Mirazur
When the view from our table looked like sun sparkles, green leaves and just enough coral to guess the town of Menton, we really didn’t think that things were about to get better.
Les pieds dans l’eau
A hard week ahead.
For gold of the world, I wouldn’t change
A thing. You’re my diamond.
And yes, it is totally alright to make cheesy words feel ok by writing a haiku.
On water and flour – Cong you bing or green onion pancakes
There is something about flour bond with water. Something that possibly goes back to those afternoons spent sat on the kitchen counter, watching my grand-mother making pâte brisée [shortcrust pastry], which I would – of course – nibble on.
Bonjour juin
[Hello June]
More than ever, this year, june feels like a new start. A kiss goodbye under the rain. Metaphorically and literally.
Also the first time I won’t be able to wish my grand-father his birthday.
Skinny dipping – Double chocolate profiteroles
I haven’t been hanging out with my laptop much lately. You see, I’ve been sort of busy doing this. And some unexpected things. Of the good kind.
Like a lunch at Mauro Colagreco‘s Mirazur – which you will certainly hear of next week – and the less-than-occasional dip in the waves.
Comptine d’un autre été – Des chouquettes
[Lullaby from another summer - Sugar choux puffs]
I could tell you how my dad would take me to the boulangerie after school, as I was smaller than the smallest tree of your garden.