So, on Friday, a friendly thief stole my bag with wallet, phone, the lock, the stock and the barrel. At least he was considerate enough to do the move after 5 am, so we had the time for many feasty hours, dancing, dancing, dancing together and alone, rocking and rolling, shaking our behind, dancing on one leg and to the left, pogo style and nightclub two step. We did not do the hustle.
Anyway. Drunk and happy friends cheered me up and so did the taxi driver and the cleaning lady and Cams baked buns with cardamom, apples and masse-pain because I like (elle, pas) and told me jovial stories of her time at the bakery. Do you know the secret of parmesan? Or the theory of yeast bubbles?
C squashing cardamom pods without a mortar
Then we invited the others to have some buns and drank coffee, smoke cigarettes and read in bed, all in the same big bed. All you need is love.
Now I am trying to make Camilla take an appartment with cuisine non equipée across the street so that Vincent and she gotta come here every evening for dinner.
the secret to fabulous food is fat, sugar and expensive spices
steam from the oignon soup flowing to the dough (C's invention)
buns, piroger, empanadas, rogaliki - beloved child has many names