Thanks to great friends and sponsors, I'm about to resuscitate the old blog. Always overdo shichimi. It clears your sinuses. Stay tuned!
Aloa people, Although I have arrived safe and sound, I will have to abandon you for a while. You can listen to this delicious Renaud song, which will provide ample vocab for you to sustain an entire conversation in colloquial French on how to beat the crap out of people. It can come handy. Cut up a few peaches Yeah, I don't have a camera yet. And no baking utensils for that matter. I'll be looking out on your blogs for Robinson Crusoe style recipes. Oh, yes there is a hammer in the flat. I can probably smash hazelnut... [Lire la suite]
As it happens, I ought to be packing up, ready for tomorrow morning. But quite frankly, when you receive such a lovely present, who gives a damn (on s'en cogne). Look at those scrumptiously crispy, toasted pralines! Aren't they thrillingly green? And they are not wasabi flavoured, you sickos (bande de branquignols). Thank you so much Claire! OK I really need to bugger off (faut vraiment que je m'esbigne) and get ready otherwise I might well end up boarding the plane tomorrow in my underpants. Tragic, I know.
There has been what I can only describe as a considerable choux madness on the food blogging scene lately, all due to the Daring Bakers' enthusiasm in attempting, successfully on the whole, éclairs au chocolat. I do not consider myself (yet) daring enough, but I'll grow out of it some day (ça va me passer). That was inspiration enough. So off we go, choux pastry+ vanilla ice cream + hot chocolate sauce, and.... ABRACADABRA! Profiteroles! Yey! Need I repeat the choux pastry recipe? I think I'll just be really lazy, for... [Lire la suite]
Ahoy! As I awoke to a dreary morning (that accounts for the poor quality of the pictures, btw), I realised this finally was the big day, Boudin-Making Day. After gathering strength from a hearty breakfast, I put the radio on and set down to work. Some of you may be interested to know that the background discussion on France Musique this morning was about how Guillaume de Machaut's music fitted in with John XXII's 1322 bull on singing style in churches. To cut a long story short, it did fit in quite well. Anyhoo, if you want to relive... [Lire la suite]
It's not the proper kind, not the real deal, the one that you let boil in huge copper pans and then leave in your basements for a couple of months for it to develop it perfect flavour. You make it, you scoff it (tu le fais, tu le bâfres). Fast, preferably, because it doesn't keep well due to the low amount of sugar used. Shame ain't it (ça craint, non).No pictures of the finished produce yet, it's in the making. Day one : pit 600g of washed mirabelles and add 275g of coarse brown cane sugar. Chuck in casually (Balancez-y avec... [Lire la suite]
It's in season, it's gorgeously golden and sweet, it's the Mirabelle plum! It's likely to be unknown to most of you who live outside France - it grows in the Lorraine and Vosges region, as the clever pictogram on my map shows: It's the princess of plums and the plum of princesses. Yes. You'll enjoy it as such, or cut in quarters (painstakingly), and artistically arranged on a crust.The basic crust is made with 220g of flour, to which you add 110g of butter cut in small chunks. Rub the butter in the flour with a pinch of salt and a... [Lire la suite]
Hello people! The demonic and yet genious ZenChef has perfidiously suggested that I have a look at this institution that all foodbloggers know through and through, I have named Foodgawker. I have been unable to blog since, I was far too busy salivating on my keyboard. That thing never stops updating. It's a nightmare. I've fallen behind with my work big time (je lambine comme c'est pas permis). I don't have a social agenda anymore. I think of life in terms of cups and oz, legs of lamb or crockpots. I don't even care. The only sport... [Lire la suite]
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... [Lire la suite]
Worse than the administration penpushers, and one rung down on the evolution ladder, are security staff members. Getting a visa, albeit diplomatic, requires you to pay two visits to the consulate. When I first dropped my application, it was almost 30°C in Paris so I wasn't wearing much. A mini skirt and a tshirt. And I was still sweating like an angora rabbit trying to get a suntan on a St Tropez beach. The security guy made me empty my bag, tried a couple of lame jokes which I ignored politely. He then asked me to walk through the... [Lire la suite]