“Cooking is an endless quest for perfection; it is at the same time never reached and always there.”
— Julien Vaché
Don't you love the restaurant ?
She fell in love with… #5
Guys, it’s eight pm. And I’m sitting in my bed. Looking at the sun playing hide-and-seek through the City. Perhaps, I took a picture with my phone. And one with my minolta instant pro too.
Bonjour juillet
[Hello July]
It’s raining. And somehow, we’re once again having winter in July. It seems to be a standard these days. And really, I could just write a letter to July.
Eglantine
[Rosehip]
No matter how hard I try, I can’t get over the fact it took me twenty-five years to realise that the églantine [rosehip] I use on a daily basis at the restaurant is the gratte-cul [itchy-bum] of my childhood; the one thing my dad used to tease me with when we went to the mountains with the hopes – most of the time, fulfilled – that our baskets would be full of chanterelles, sanguins, trompettes des morts, and other mushrooms by the end of day.
The end has no end
Last night, I said goodbye to a kitchen. As I was cleaning, I realised it would be the very last time. And I just couldn’t bring myself to live the space that had almost become my home.
I love you like chocolate cake
I wake up to darkness, sleepy faces, and cold winds. I go home to darkness, empty streets, and many thoughts.
In between, there is flour. And sugar.