Some recipes are harder to post than others. You slyly nibble at the raw dough (tu grignotes la pâte crue en douce) and faster than you can say Jack Robinson there is hardly any left in the bowl. Bottom line is, no pictures. Or you end up cooking whatever remains of the dough. And eating the shortbreads so fast you don't have time to locate your camera. Or there isn't enough light in the room and it doesn't cut it (ça le fait pas) (is there EVER enough light in that room? do I live in a cave?). Or a dinosaur sneaks up on your glass of milk and tries to hijack your cookie. It engenders an endless taxonomic debate with your flatmate on the exact genus of the saurian in question (Brontosaurus? Diplodocus? Matchasaurus?)



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Yes, sometimes it really is a miracle that there is any evidence left at all that you baked something.

Talking about saurians, I can't help but notice that many an unwitting reader of this blog stumbles on it accidentally, brought in this neck of the woods by concerns of an epistemological or philological nature.

It's all credit to them, of course, and since some questions have been recurring lately, I'd like to make a point.

"what kind of animal does oxtail come from" "is oxtail really what it is"

Yes. Ox. Tail. You got it.

"why is a walnut called a walnut"

Because the Romans brought it to the UK.



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Those sablés have been made by half the blogosphere (Yeah zero novelty factor - geese, I'm such a lemming), and it's Sunday morning, two very good reasons not to re-post the recipe. All hail Kelli and Fanny. When you bake the cookies, keep a very close eye on them and take them out as soon as you start seeing the sides changing colour (hardly even browning). It took only ten minutes in my oven. They will solidify as they cool, and you want to keep them as "sablé" as possible. Besides it would be a shame to lose that crazy green tint and subtle diplodocussy flavour.

Diplodocuses taste of green tea. Fact.