Honungssnittar

A story about honey biscuit-slices, Christmas nook and the first advent Sunday Sunrise: 8:57 AM Sunset: 1:51 PM Temperature: 2.9°C Things haven’t evolved much since the days of my childhood Christmases. The tree gets decorated early. Biscuits get baked. So does my mom’s pain d’épices. Some years, Aïda and I will attempt to make marrons glacés [candied chestnuts], which is never a success since most ...

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PS. We picked apples and made cider. Oh and an apple cake too!

One morning, we woke up to lights through the wooden blinds barely covering never-ending windows. Coffee got made. And we sat on the steps overlooking the garden. Early signs of autumn, drawn to the earth in the shape of dew that made our feet wet as we walked to the apple tree. Apples as white as snow. His dad said they were called Transparentes blanches. ...

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Rêveries – Riz au lait à la vanille et plus

[Daydreams – Vanilla riz au lait and more] It’s ten am. The wind is howling through the windowsill. And the rain battering against the glass. Yes, I’ve told you before, it’s my favourite kind of music. But right now, it’s been going on for so long that I’ve forgotten the words to this permanent darkness. I’ve forgotten the words to the book I’m writing too. ...

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But we had us – Un gâteau aux pommes et au cidre, un peu comme une tarte tatin

[A cider and apple cake, not unlike a tatin tart] There was that night made of champagne, flickering candles, crisps and smoked salmon sandwiches, the last of the foie gras smothered onto big fat chunky pieces of baguette, an endless game of trivial pursuit where – as it turned out – the one person who refused to play (my father, apparently stuck to his mots ...

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Pure morning – Burnt honey, vanilla, and parsnip ice-cream

It’s the light, a cold blue grey. It’s the window, adorned with pearls. It’s the wind, carrying the scent of moss and ocean. And just like you don’t even have to think to know you’ve fallen deep-hard in love, I didn’t have to look through the open window to know we’d been surrounded by cotton overnight. Yes, that morning – or perhaps more accurately, early ...

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