He never warned me I live with someone . Thus, each reunion
was a meeting between the shelves of a bookstore or behind the windows of a cafe.
At home, I had built a square room crammed with crumpled clothes, medical courses and magazines.
For me, it does not come often, I did not find it quite well. It sounded just the end of Thursday afternoon and brought chocolate croissants. I lived in an apartment
small, dark and icy winter. The floor was very nice, there were wooden beams and a fireplace but the windows were tiny, not open or opened onto a wall. It was very crowded, filled with books, posters, videotapes, postcards and chocolate bars. It was the time on my answering machine, people were received by the introduction of a song Radiohead. It was also the time when I was wearing jeans rolled up on Clarks brown leather tired than when I had a wallet in striped fabric and a duffle coat. That was when I was expecting that life begins.
the ground floor of my building there was a bar, which often changed its name. One day in February, it was not a Thursday, it had sounded, he had something important to say. I learned traits because it was a harsh winter. We decided to go for coffee down (I never drink coffee) and, while I wondered if I would rid my red scarf or not, he said Maybe we could live together .
Many winters have passed since then and last Friday, something came sealed, not just old memories, shared and happy, but also those to come, and we do not suspect.
To celebrate, he had planned a Sunday lunch at Olivier Roellinger , and on the road that winds up Cancale, the excitement was at its height.
This meal full of good feelings, I will keep in mind especially the arrival of the dessert trolley and its three floors filled with sweets reassuring yarrow, vanilla profiteroles, strawberries, Paris-Cancale (praline and pistachio), tart with figs or apricot-chocolate chocolate or caramel and salted butter, stewed nectarines Kampot pepper, meringue, nougat, marshmallow and orange powder Equinoccial ... I can not remember everything. What I found terrible, it's back to the waitress, once the plates removed, and his question miraculous Have you had enough desserts? As I'm shy and I have the idea that something was missing do with pleasure, I have not gained profiterole, though it was just insane.
Then there was a long walk into the wind (change of shoes pinch, but you know , I am always equipped) and we talked about focus, botanical gardens, hotels in Paris, a jacket with cuffed sleeves striped and celebration that we do in the new apartment, years after the coffee I had not even drank in the bar downstairs from my building.
You'd think that after the feast roellingeriennes, we would have gone to dinner. It was not counting the very long walk, during which our hands to pick up wounded dozens of beautiful ripe and had closed the purchase of any salad spruced granny who held a mini-vegetable stand at the roadside, seaside (j ' you might have about the charm of picking blackberries, the eye becomes increasingly vigilant to identify the larger fruit, the brightest, and the hand that extends to detach the ripe carefully while the other hand removes the thorns unwelcome, but I have little experience, I would not say anything).
While in the car all lights on, we made suggestions impossible, given the time and robbed the state of the fridge the night before to make a meal worthy of the name after the session Uncle Boonmee (not the film by Apichatpong Weerasetakhul my favorite but it was good anyway). There would be no Caesar salad, or pork with ginger (mummy's recipe) but the idea of the club sandwich was diverted to the kebab! Not because you see, when I go there is always a queue at the mad kebab next to the press. So I looked and they announced that the meat is home, once I know, you could try ...
(I know there are those who disappear at the mere idea but I assume, I like-good-kebabs!)
At home, while he was setting the table, I got off at full speed and at the bar recently renovated, I asked a large tray of meat, a small basket of fries (that's unusual and heretical but you see, I do not hide anything), white sauce and some bread. A sort of deconstructed kebab. In the elevator, before crossing the front door of the apartment, I crossed my fingers that it is not worse than Royal Kebab (next to the SBT, my favorite. And Also, the boss's wife book sometimes chicken thighs stuffed) because they are really nice there and I do not like infidelity.
ceremonial tasting and fun.
In the end, it was very good: the meat was well grilled and had a taste of sweet pepper, white sauce was really extra fresh, with micro-diced cucumber BUT it was not as regressive at Royal Kebab ! Salad granny had about it the taste of his kindness.
Anyway, I like the idea that I live with a boy who can unfold a napkin at lunch on his knees and feast on dishes in the sophisticated fine china and dinner eat a kebab with a glass of amber beer.
The next day, after a summit meeting, it was decided that would eventually mature into crumble. True to himself, in the same way he prefers the cheesecake crust thick , he also likes crumbles with lots of dough. Blackberry and apple have a happy marriage.
simplissible and rapidissime Recipe: mix 120g of flour with 100g rapadura and 75 g of almond powder sand then there 100g salted butter very cold . Mix in a dish ripe (about 200g), six small apples (rather tart), peeled and cut into cubes and a tablespoon of vanilla sugar (get the vanilla pods whose seeds have only been used, place them in a jar and fill it with powdered sugar and wait). Pour the crumble topping and bake (35min at 180 °)
This quaint architecture to serve it with ice vanilla, but it's also good architect!
was a meeting between the shelves of a bookstore or behind the windows of a cafe.
At home, I had built a square room crammed with crumpled clothes, medical courses and magazines.
For me, it does not come often, I did not find it quite well. It sounded just the end of Thursday afternoon and brought chocolate croissants. I lived in an apartment
small, dark and icy winter. The floor was very nice, there were wooden beams and a fireplace but the windows were tiny, not open or opened onto a wall. It was very crowded, filled with books, posters, videotapes, postcards and chocolate bars. It was the time on my answering machine, people were received by the introduction of a song Radiohead. It was also the time when I was wearing jeans rolled up on Clarks brown leather tired than when I had a wallet in striped fabric and a duffle coat. That was when I was expecting that life begins.
the ground floor of my building there was a bar, which often changed its name. One day in February, it was not a Thursday, it had sounded, he had something important to say. I learned traits because it was a harsh winter. We decided to go for coffee down (I never drink coffee) and, while I wondered if I would rid my red scarf or not, he said Maybe we could live together .
Many winters have passed since then and last Friday, something came sealed, not just old memories, shared and happy, but also those to come, and we do not suspect.
To celebrate, he had planned a Sunday lunch at Olivier Roellinger , and on the road that winds up Cancale, the excitement was at its height.
This meal full of good feelings, I will keep in mind especially the arrival of the dessert trolley and its three floors filled with sweets reassuring yarrow, vanilla profiteroles, strawberries, Paris-Cancale (praline and pistachio), tart with figs or apricot-chocolate chocolate or caramel and salted butter, stewed nectarines Kampot pepper, meringue, nougat, marshmallow and orange powder Equinoccial ... I can not remember everything. What I found terrible, it's back to the waitress, once the plates removed, and his question miraculous Have you had enough desserts? As I'm shy and I have the idea that something was missing do with pleasure, I have not gained profiterole, though it was just insane.
Then there was a long walk into the wind (change of shoes pinch, but you know , I am always equipped) and we talked about focus, botanical gardens, hotels in Paris, a jacket with cuffed sleeves striped and celebration that we do in the new apartment, years after the coffee I had not even drank in the bar downstairs from my building.
You'd think that after the feast roellingeriennes, we would have gone to dinner. It was not counting the very long walk, during which our hands to pick up wounded dozens of beautiful ripe and had closed the purchase of any salad spruced granny who held a mini-vegetable stand at the roadside, seaside (j ' you might have about the charm of picking blackberries, the eye becomes increasingly vigilant to identify the larger fruit, the brightest, and the hand that extends to detach the ripe carefully while the other hand removes the thorns unwelcome, but I have little experience, I would not say anything).
While in the car all lights on, we made suggestions impossible, given the time and robbed the state of the fridge the night before to make a meal worthy of the name after the session Uncle Boonmee (not the film by Apichatpong Weerasetakhul my favorite but it was good anyway). There would be no Caesar salad, or pork with ginger (mummy's recipe) but the idea of the club sandwich was diverted to the kebab! Not because you see, when I go there is always a queue at the mad kebab next to the press. So I looked and they announced that the meat is home, once I know, you could try ...
(I know there are those who disappear at the mere idea but I assume, I like-good-kebabs!)
At home, while he was setting the table, I got off at full speed and at the bar recently renovated, I asked a large tray of meat, a small basket of fries (that's unusual and heretical but you see, I do not hide anything), white sauce and some bread. A sort of deconstructed kebab. In the elevator, before crossing the front door of the apartment, I crossed my fingers that it is not worse than Royal Kebab (next to the SBT, my favorite. And Also, the boss's wife book sometimes chicken thighs stuffed) because they are really nice there and I do not like infidelity.
ceremonial tasting and fun.
In the end, it was very good: the meat was well grilled and had a taste of sweet pepper, white sauce was really extra fresh, with micro-diced cucumber BUT it was not as regressive at Royal Kebab ! Salad granny had about it the taste of his kindness.
Anyway, I like the idea that I live with a boy who can unfold a napkin at lunch on his knees and feast on dishes in the sophisticated fine china and dinner eat a kebab with a glass of amber beer.
The next day, after a summit meeting, it was decided that would eventually mature into crumble. True to himself, in the same way he prefers the cheesecake crust thick , he also likes crumbles with lots of dough. Blackberry and apple have a happy marriage.
simplissible and rapidissime Recipe: mix 120g of flour with 100g rapadura and 75 g of almond powder sand then there 100g salted butter very cold . Mix in a dish ripe (about 200g), six small apples (rather tart), peeled and cut into cubes and a tablespoon of vanilla sugar (get the vanilla pods whose seeds have only been used, place them in a jar and fill it with powdered sugar and wait). Pour the crumble topping and bake (35min at 180 °)
This quaint architecture to serve it with ice vanilla, but it's also good architect!
0 comments:
Post a Comment