Tag: breakfast

My ultimate kanelbullar, un peu comme des brioches

[My ultimate kanelbullar, not unlike cinnamon brioches] Tomorrow is the 4th of October. A date that doesn’t go unnoticed in Sweden. Yes, tomorrow is kanelbullens dag [cinnamon roll day]. I must have felt that this post – which I promised to share with you long before I even knew kanelbullar had their own day – […]

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Les giboulées d’avril – Brioches feuilletées au sucre

[April showers – Flaky sugar brioches] Today, it hailed three times. Rained once. And snowed twice. With the sun being at its brightest in between. Yes, I think April showers take a whole new meaning here. Some other things do too. In fact, I started this post in my head – perhaps yesterday, or even […]

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Un week end pluvieux, et des croissants un peu comme des kanelbullar

[A rainy weekend, and croissants, not unlike kanelbullar] There was that weekend, many-many months ago. I had told you about the days when blogs were not so editorially perfect and how I miss them; about the two crumpets with raspberry jam that I had had for an early afternoon breakfast; and about how we’d moved […]

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All mornings should be like this – Custard-filled cornbread

Yesterday, two am. Tonight, we ate al fresco. In our garden. Who said you’re not allowed to play make-believe anymore? I made dessert. One strawberry tart, only it’s so much more. Black olives, vanilla, and olive oil shortbread. White chocolate crémeux. Strawberries from the little patch that somehow resisted the month of May; or perhaps, […]

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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. And heard the music they make as they crash into the sand. I painted feathers onto a white porcelain plate. And abstract watercolours […]

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The daily fix

I wake up to the shy sound of a detuned French radio. And leave a half-drank latte – stay put – on the kitchen table. Off on my favourite hollandais bike. It rattles, unexpectedly. And the brake feels ever too fierce. But it takes me to the market. And the little fort by the beach; […]

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