Perfume is like cocktails without the hangover, like chocolate without the calories, like an affair without tears, like a vacation from which you never have to come back.
– Marian Bendeth
I have a new colleague at work. She takes really good care of her hair – unlike me here typing away. Anyway the other day we were discussing how I have a food blog and that I love to cook. She declared that she doesn’t like cooking because she doesn’t like the smell of the cooking absorbing into her hair. If she must cook, then she will cook, wash her hair, and then eat.
At first I thought that was a bit drastic, because the truth is that I don’t give a rats tale as to if my hair is absorbing the smell of my stew, pasta or curry. Or sardines. Ok, come to think of it, maybe I should worry if it smells of sardines. Still, I don’t worry. On the other hand I do love perfumes, but I guess that’s another story…
Then I recalled that my mum doesn’t like the smell of cooking absorbing into her hair either. Right, mum? I mean, she cooks a lot, and fantastically, and likes it too, but just doesn’t particularly like that fragrant side effect.
Back to my case, apparently sometimes my hair smells of spices. Which ones? I’m not quite sure, just a mix of spices. I’m beginning to think that maybe I’m not naturally spicy as such, maybe it’s my hair absorbing the smell of spices in my cooking.
So perhaps the world is divided into people that don’t like the smell of their cooking absorbing in their hair, and people that don’t mind it at all. Which side are you on?
I realised that I hadn’t made a giant cookie in ages, so I made another one, a vergeoise version this time. I also hadn’t written a post in ages, which I can blame on working too much. I had quite a list of things I wanted to discuss here, so I might as well write about them all now. Hold on tight because this post might become a bit far stretched.
Let’s start in chronological order, with my new cake tin. Mr. H. got me this fancy Le Creuset cake tin with removable sides for Christmas. Isn’t it cool? Bonus points: the big orange button goes well with the colour linked to the name and design of my blog.
Perhaps it’s a bit too late to talk about New Years resolutions. I had declared my resolutions in Instagram – how superficial does that sound, declarations through Instagram – that this year I wanted to be conscious, be brave and be better. I also made a joke about not making crazy resolutions about running 10km every morning before work, because it won’t happen. Also because I’m always resoluting (I think the word resoluting doesn’t really exist) to run more and I’ve always failed. But…
“Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.”
– William Shakespeare
Another year has ended, and a fresh new year begins. My new year began in France with foie gras, oysters, champagne and friends I hadn’t seen in a while. Plus the first lunch of the year was spent with my lovely friend Darya, which is such a great way to begin the new year. I hope 2016 will be full of happiness for everyone.
This winter has began with a heatwave. The 8ºC heatwave allowed to me enjoy a stroll around the beach of Le Touquet, on the French side of the English Channel. Instead of being blown away by an icy cold wind, as what usually happens, I could actually take my hands out of my gloves and pockets to make some photos of the winter sunset.
I spent this Christmas in Madrid with a big portion of my Spanish family. I love being in the middle of all the chaos with them. Just before Christmas I managed to visit the El Prado Museum. I realised that the first and last time I had been there was over two decades ago (geez!), and that it was a shame that I hadn’t been back, since I spend so much time in Madrid. Indeed, it was gorgeous. Apart from seeing the most famous Velazquez and Goya pieces, other favourites that I discovered were Zurbaran and Ribera.
After Christmas I jumped on a plane to meet up with Mr. H. in France. I offered to make a dessert. After my first choice – a cheesecake – was incredibly believe it or not democratically ousted, I offered to make a tarte Tatín. Then I thought about it, I’m in France, surrounded by real French people, offering to make one of the Frenchest of French desserts ever, it’s kind of suicidal… I made it even so, and even though the caramel could have been a bit more compact, it seemed to be a success.
It is not absolutely compulsory to publish christmassy festive kinds of dishes during these dates, is it? Because this dish is not your typically festive dish. Nor is it non-typically festive either. It’s one of my last minute throw together nearly emergency type of food. Apart from slicing some cheese with Serrano ham that is.