Until the end of the school year, I was teaching part time in a very posh school, the name of which I will keep to myself. The scandal is really too great. Excommunication is in the air, no less.


It is very religious school. The chapel, of vast proportions, is nested inside the building. Biblical quotes are copied on the walls for personal edification. About 60% of the students are of aristocratic descent (the triple-barrelled names give it away, so do the worn-out Cyrillus outfits) or have very rich parents. Of course, it is private - you wouldn't want the vulgum pecus to butt in with their filthy hands and gaudy tracksuit bottoms (leurs pantalons de survêt' tape-à-l'oeil). Plus they don't really master the art of speaking with the (in)famous cat-bumhole pout. Tsk tsk tsk. Anyway, leaving the destitute aside.

As I was finishing an exam session one evening, I went to throw away my rough papers, and what did I not find in the classroom bin!


I know! Saint Thérèse of Lisieux!! #*&#~*!!Who's the little miscreant...!

Back to the kitchen. A couple of weeks ago Ana and I were chatting about pannacotta, and she mentionned she would love to try making some. I couldn't not jump on the occasion. She came round one afternoon, and as she was weighing the pros and cons of dating short men (Ana darling, I have forgotten what conclusion we came to, but feel free to enlighten us in the comment section) we prepared something like a pannacotta, except that for lack of time we had to choose an agar agar version (yes, and not only because we are pathetic fashion victims) over the traditionnal gelatin version. The seaweed version settles incredibly fast.

For 2 voracious girls

150ml cream
80ml milk
25g sugar
0.5g agar agar (that's about a quarter of a teaspoon)
1 vanilla pod


Shotglasses are cool.

In anticipation, I infused the scraped Bourbon vanilla pod and the seeds in the milk and cream to maximise dramatic gustative impact. I also put the sugar in so it had time to dissolve.

Then we diluted the agar agar in a spoonful of milk, flung the mix back in the saucepan, brought it to a boil, keeping it bubbbling for a minute or so, time for the agar agar to wake up and pound its hairy chest with its slimy mini-fists (ses petits poings gluants).

We fished the vanilla pod out, and poured the pannacotta in individual dishes. Fridge for 30 mins.

We also prepared a raspberry coulis with about 100g fresh raspberries blended with a light syrup, keeping a couple of rapsberries for deco (I know, fashion victims).

After many a thoughtful consideration on the conclusiveness of belonging to single-sex a cappella group, the pannacottas were ready for their final journey to our stomachs.

Swing low sweet pannacotta

Unmold the pannacotta (or inhale straight from the shotglasses if you can't wait, Prince Harry style). We tried the option of putting a raspberry on top of the pannacotta, but it really looked far too indecent to feature on such a nice and family-friendly blog.


Oh well. Too bad.

Finally, a huge thank you to Chefs Gone Wild for the lovely award, which I think I am meant to pass onto five other deserving blogs. Let it be known that without this award, I don't think I would ever have got visits by people from Trinidad and Tobago or Singapour. Colloquial people from all countries, unite.

I am a fond reader of Le confit c'est pas gras (the recipes are amazing, the wit incomparable), of Cuisine Campagne (great pictures and daring cooking experiments), of Le Pétrin (breads and brioches that work every time), of Time 4 Tea (for its family atmosphere and innumerable variations on crème dessert), and of Tronche de Cake (immensely funny and innovative). Tadaa!