The not-so-official April day-dream list.
I want café frappés, the best euphemism of a kind that involves milkshakes for breakfast. I want to wear a sequin top and leopard ballerines from dawn till the next.
One. Coconut water. Feel the heat. A heat like you’ve never felt it before. Or at least you’ve forgotten. Yes, at times, it is pointless to try and remember things that can only be felt.
Yesterday, we found a basket on our fence. The third this week. It’s made of osier and hung by a metal hook.
Inside, we could see apricots. And at times, cherries.
[The recipe box and other little stories]
1. A feature I’d been wanting to do for ever: a recipe box on the front page of the blog. You can access it by clicking on the link in the navbar above or scrolling to the bottom of any page.
[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.
As off today, I’m out-of-office-ish.
You see, I’ve walked under a sky made of Union Jack buntings. I’ve sipped through golden glasses of mint tea, served just like under that Moroccan tent I slept in years and years ago.
An hour ago, I took a whole – 1,5kg kind of whole – chicken out from the oven. Just for myself.
You see it started this morning when I first opened my curtains to a day where clouds blanket everything we see.
[Hello March, goodbye March]
I’ve felt raindrops running through my hair; and my dress too. I’ve made a cake. And another one too.
I’ve seen blossoms on every tree. I’ve walked in empty avenues, with my eyes closed and his hand on mine.
I started collecting objects, to make up for memories I forgot. A blue pool ball, a broken cigarette, a plastic table number.
I read words. Most of the time, at night.
[Olive oil jelly]
In autumn, with figs, a young brillat-savarin curd, and a warm sponge so full of vanilla seeds it’s almost grey. Perhaps, a few toasted and salted almonds for crunch.
In winter, with caramelised apples, a white chocolate granita – not unlike snow, crystallised rosemary, and fresh apple bubbles.
It’s hard to play favourite with vanilla.
Tahitian vanilla (or for the geeks out there, and that includes me, Vanilla tahitensis) is a bit of a outsider – considered its the only vanilla to contain heliotropin – with its floral burst and nutty undertones.
Hello, it’s 32°C out there.
This morning I went swimming. One last time before the French holidays come to an end.
Oh, this past month has been great. I’ve been enjoying the summer I never got this summer.
This is what happens when it’s summer. Or at least when it feels like it.
We swim in the sea, or more accurately, we’re forced by that wave which chose the exact moment we stepped into the water to break into – what feels like – a herd of horses.
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.