Everything falls into place – Raw muesli bars

I spoke with my grand-mère last night. We settled on soup, mostly. Vegetables and a few spoonfuls of lentils or split peas. And citrouille [pumpkin] cooked with its skin on in a light bouillon. Yes, the approaching winter means soup for dinner. It also means a half-past-three dusk and long evenings at home. Kalle has been tying flies and installing new operating systems on his ...

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Chasing rugbrød, part one

We waked, in the two cabins in those happy days, just before the sun came up, when the birds were in their loudest clamor of morning joy. Wrapped each in a blanket, George and I stepped out from our doors, each trying to call the other, and often meeting on the grass between. We ran to the river and plunged in,—oh, how cold it was!—laughed ...

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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, I should say the month of rain. Strawberry coulis and ...

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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. To the sound of wind and the smell of rain through the open windows. I would wake up too early in the morning. And have a coffee; or two. ...

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