PS. Time to start baking with saffron

Saffran, pepparkakor, lingon och mandel. If you sat on the windowsill, here with me – yes, right now – you’d see many things around us. The stars and advent candles, fluttering in every house. The snow, covering roofs till the horizon and further. In my kitchen – and I suspect many others – saffran, pepparkakor, lingon och mandel [saffron, gingerbread, lingon berries and almonds] pervade ...

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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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PS. Guess who’s back?

The reinette seems to like Anna-Sarah’s potager a little too much. She found it in the fennels today and to be honest, we couldn’t be happier. My days are like no other at the moment. I bake in the morning. And write recipes in the afternoon. With breaks spent in the garden, with a glass of fizzy water of the ice-cold kind and a frog ...

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PS. I felt like cake; made one and ate a slice.

A friend, of the dear-to-my-heart kind, made this cake today. A few thousands of kilometres away. And I did too. In ten minutes, from cupboards to oven*. It was eaten on the couch. To the sound of summertime sadness**. And raindrops started hitting the kitchen window. And that cup of coffee was slightly too hot to be drank. And, really, I was just missing one ...

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PS. Just a breakfast…

It might be safe to say that, in a perfect world, this would be my breakfast. Everyday. That week in Fouras possibly was the closest I could get to perfection. A perfection that tasted damn good. Especially with a sprinkle of vanilla sugar. Perhaps, it was just a breakfast. But it certainly didn’t feel like a just kind of one. Have a lovely week-end. And ...

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PS. Ben Spalding at the loft project

Marylebone, London, early August It was a Wednesday. We walked through Manchester square; looking at trees turning to that golden shade we all long for. Then three hours later, we realised there was something else we longed for. Something that Roganic – and his head chef Ben – just delivered to us in the form of a six-course meal. Clapham Junction, London, late August I ...

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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. Well, I did. A couple of hours later, we sat at the table, with our eyes still plein de sommeil [full of sleep]. And we had a slice each. With plenty of strawberry ...

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