Dernière minute
This weekend, though, I caught the most wretchedly dire homesickness that I've ever had in my life and nothing could coax me out of my funk. Gui and I grabbed happy hour and a movie on Friday evening (Alice in Wonderland in 3D - beautiful film but the jury's still out on the storyline and oddly-added solo dance), and then had some Tex-Mex for dinner, but I could barely eat from being so run amok with thoughts about my family and how much I miss them. Everything reminded me of my nephews and my far-away friends - now mostly parents of little ones - that I don't see often enough. I felt awful and tried doing things to distract myself, but nothing worked to deter my thoughts.
On Sunday, we had lunch with Gui's dad and sister at the same place we took my mom to on her first and only trip to Paris, and I struggled to keep it together. It was hard to stay composed when they asked how I was doing, how my job was going, and how my family and new nephews where getting along - normal stuff. My heart was totally longing to be near them, to hold my new nephews and run around like a kid with the others. Gui and I talked about our trip in June and all the things we'll do while we're there, all the people we'll see. But, in doing this, we realized how little time we'll actually have to see everyone we want to see. Between Kansas and Austin and Dallas and the traveling between each, two weeks is just not enough time.
Monday morning rolled around and I was in such a foul mood. I dragged myself out of bed, threw on the first black dress I saw, tights and boots, trudged slowly to the bus without much care about the time or my tardiness and then, with immense difficulty bonjoured everyone in the office and sputtered off a lie when they asked how I was doing. I just couldn't be bothered with the day; with anything. How did it get to this?
Despite my lingering Monday workload, all I could think of was leaving - leaving the office, leaving Paris, leaving France. Just leaving. I was so incredibly sad and felt so incredibly guilty about being so sad. All I could think of was going home - being home with my parents, sister, brothers, nephews, friends and their babies. I just wanted to be near them all.
So, as an act of desperation, I checked flights to Texas and flights to Kansas and realized that I could visit my sister (and brother-in-law and 3 out of 4 of my nephews) in Kansas by cashing in on our frequent-flyer miles and paying about half the normal price of a ticket. Originally, I thought about going for a long weekend - taking advantage of the Monday holiday, I could leave Friday night and come back on Sunday, but Gui thought that was just too crazy. He reminded me that I work in France, and when my contract is all said and done, I still won't have used up all of my paid vacation and RTT (days accumulated each month that act like paid vacation). So, I guiltily asked my boss if he would mind my taking a few extra days off - even though I'd already taken two days the week before, and he was totally cool with it. More than cool. He waved his hand and told me to take whatever days I need to and not to worry about any asking in advance. I was elated.
I don't know if this last-minute trip will make everything better or if I'll return with a renewed feeling of positivity and happiness, but I know it will do me some good. Just knowing that I'm leaving on Thursday morning to finally meet my new nephew and see my loved ones has already made such a difference in my mind. I've never planned a transatlantic flight so spontaneously before, and this time it's not about how smoothly everything goes or how efficiently my time is spent. Once I see those toothy grins and hear those hearty grunts from the sweetest boys in all the world, my thoughts will be light-years away from the trifles of time and economics.
'Tis the season to be...busy.
And now Thanksgiving is upon us - less than a week away - and my built-in nostalgia-sensors are at full-strength. Since I can't make it home again this year for the family feast fest, we decided to host it chez nous once again to keep the tradition alive (at least one more year - I'm swearing that I'll be celebrating in the motherland next year). We've ordered the 17-pound turkey (fingers crossed it actually arrives), stocked up on the essentials for cornbread stuffing, green bean casserole and mashed potatoes, and we're planning to clear out the living room this week to make space for all the food and friends we're anticipating.
To help with the organization, we took a trip to Ikea this weekend and came home with more than we set out to get, including a poinsettia and some red garland. The holidays are already upon us and it's freaking me out! I've never felt so unprepared for the season before - it's like my brain is busting at the seams with thoughts of turkeys, Christmas gifts, new year's eve celebrations, knitting projects, grocery lists, and what I'm going to wear to work tomorrow. When did I become an adult? And when can I go back to letting someone else take care of all that stuff again?
I know what my mom will be saying right about now - something about how great it is to be an adult, to grow a family and continue the traditions. She'd also probably mention that I should just take it one day at a time, or in this case at least, one holiday at a time. I guess I just tend to get so caught up in the hustle and bustle of the to-do, it's hard to stop and check-in to reality for a second and cherish what it's really about.
One thing's for sure, when the temps drop and the holidays start rolling through, my stomach starts craving all things wintry and warm. On those rare evenings when I've found myself with some spare energy, I've taken to the kitchen to feed my cravings. And usually, that means something that I've been missing from my mom or Aunt Janie's kitchen - like soups and stews and Spanish rice. My most recent craving-killer was something my mom used to cook for us that I know her mom cooked for her when the air was extra chilly and squash season was in full swing. It's a simply soupy dish called calabaza con pollo, and it's all I could think about eating for more than a week straight. But, no recipe I found was exactly what I was looking for, so I noted the spices and concocted my own recipe along with my mom's recipe for Spanish rice and came up with one of the best dishes I've ever made. One thing I'm very thankful for is having a mom who's always known how to balance her time between work and family, and who, growing up, always managed to put a hot meal in front of us despite her hectic life. It's always difficult to be away from my family during the holidays, but I'm happy for the simple memories of family meals that I'm able to recreate from so far away.
Calabaza con pollo
2 chicken breasts, cubed
1 zucchini, sliced or diced
1 onion
1 can diced tomatoes
2 cups chicken broth
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp tomato paste/concentrate
1 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp garlic powder
salt and pepper to taste
Season chicken with salt and pepper and saute in a deep skillet with the olive oil until cooked through.
Add onion and saute for 2 minutes, until translucent. Add zucchini and saute for another minute or 2. Add remaining ingredients, cover the pan and leave it to simmer on the stove (mid-low heat) for about 15 minutes.
Serve over Spanish rice and eat with tortillas (we had some corn tortillas that I brought back from Texas and could only have been happier if they'd been my mom's homemade flour tortillas).
* Also, I remember this dish being served with corn from time to time, but we didn't have a can lying around so I left it out.
On vacation
Being back in Austin has been so amazing, albeit completely exhausting. My original intention when coming back for my long visit (I've been here since the end of July, people!) was to catch up with family and friends, get reacquainted with my hometown and scout out the job market. And, I can say that I've done exactly what I'd intended to do during these past weeks, although with mixed results.
Getting back into the groove of the city took longer than I'd expected it to. When I first arrived, I felt really confused about where my place was here and what my feelings were about our impending return to Austin. But, slowly and surely I regained a bit of an identity with the city, identified where I fit in and remembered clearly why I want so badly to get back to this place (and no, it's not just for the food). While Gui was here with me, we reunited with friends, caught up on old times and fell back into the swing of life as if we were still locals. After Gui returned to France, I was unexpectedly (although gladly) asked to spend a week in Dallas, to help out with my newborn nephew. As happy as I was to spend some time bonding with baby Xavier, the week away from Austin put a bit of a kink into my job-hunting plans. I never intended to find a job during my time vacationing in Austin, but I wanted to test the waters, so to speak, and check out what kind of market I'd be diving into upon our return. I wasn't really able to do that while I was in Dallas, so when I returned to Austin last week, I was determined to make some progress. What I quickly discovered though, was that this city's job market is nothing like it used to be and I'd be going up against some stiff and brutal competition. Giving myself a week to square away solid leads was an unrealistic goal, so I made the decision to back off and forget about job search until Gui and I have a more concrete strategy and timeline for moving back.
Now, I know this sounds ridiculous, but being on vacation for so long has been a lot more difficult than I had imagined it could ever be. Thank goodness we're blessed with the most hospitable and loving friends anyone could ever dream of having. There's just no way we could have enjoyed our time here so much nor been more comfortable than we have been had they not been so extraordinary. What's been so exhausting for me, is the traveling I've had to do to see my family that doesn't live in Austin anymore. Being here for so long, I've found myself planning and playing as if I've already moved back. I started yoga classes again, reestablished some new and old favorite hot-spots and spent some time going up and down the aisles of my favorite grocery stores. I've reconnected. So, it's hard to imagine that this is my last weekend in town for a while; that after a short stint in Dallas and Kansas, I'll be back in Paris - back to my life and my home. I'm hoping, though, that by the time my plane takes off from DFW airport, I'll have a better sense of what's important to me now and what our next step will be. I'm hoping that my mind will be more settled and focused - aimed and locked in one, solid direction.
Joyeuses Fêtes de Paques!
My friend, Deanna sent me this link that I found seriously funny, so maybe you will, too!
Easter 2008 (and the little faces I'll be missing this year):
It's still winter in Paris
The weekend is usually more promising in the social department, though, and Gui and I typically spend the two days with family or old friends. This past Sunday, we made it out to Marcq again and spent the afternoon drinking champagne by a roaring fire before devouring a tajine for lunch. It's so nice to be out of Paris, if only for a few hours. The residence there is still up for sale, and there have been a few interested buyers coming 'round, but I'm still keeping my fingers crossed that Gui and I hit the lottery so we can buy it. It was bitingly cold on Sunday and before leaving Marcq, we talked about Monday's forecast for snow and ice. No doubt, Monday turned into a day of finishing up knitting projects at home.
The thing is that once I'm outside, I'm good to go, so I just need something to kickstart me into motivating myself to leave the apartment. Something like a job or my craving for nachos, which is what's motivating me to get my butt out of the apartment and head for The Great Canadian Pub for dinner tonight. There really isn't anything better than the promise of a good meal to get me going.
Dinner conversation
Everything managed to fall into place for the evening, and I think I'm getting better at hosting dinner. In the past, I always felt a bit of pressure to serve things the "French way," but I'm loosening up a bit more and realizing it's fine to be different. We broke in some new Mikasa glassware we got for Christmas, and dined well on roasted chicken, salade composée, gratin savoyarde, and a nice red wine. I decided that I really enjoy dinners like this - at a dinner table and with proper dinnerware - as Gui and I tend to be more casual when we're getting our grub on (read: eating on a serving tray in front of the TV).
While I was preparing the gravy, Gui let his mom know that we're seriously considering moving to Austin in a year or so. It's something we discussed during our last trip and we've been talking about it since. I'd always known that we'd move back to the States someday, but it was a surprise to hear Gui tell me he'd like to move there soon - like in a year. Of course, I'm ecstatic about the idea, but there's still loads of stuff to work out before we make any concrete plans. It's difficult for me to think about Gui leaving his family and friends because I know how hard it's been for me. Despite his overwhelming reassurances, I still feel like he'd really miss his home, and I don't want him to have any regrets or disappointments once we leave. I could tell his mom was sad when he mentioned it, a little surprised and slightly disappointed. It's hard not to feel like I'm taking her baby away from her.
But, we have a lot of time to work everything out and make some final decisions. These past couple of weeks, though, I've really enjoyed being back in Paris. Sure, Winter in Paris blows, but I've still managed to stay light-hearted and optimistic even through the dreariest days. I know that Spring and Summer are around the corner, and despite having been properly seduced by the charm of my hometown, I'll admit that I'm a little worried that Paris might win me over yet.
'Might as well blog since I can't sleep
Last Sunday, Gui and I spent the afternoon with his dad's side of his family at a birthday party for his great-aunt and great-uncle who were celebrating a combined 160 years of life. I remember meeting them for the first time at our wedding; they hugged me and kissed me like I was already family, and then spoke to me in rapid-fire French while I widened my eyes and grinned. Seeing them again this time was not any different, except that after saying only a word or two in French, they praised me on my progress. (How on earth could they know that I've progressed after only saying, "Bonjour, oui, très bien, merci. Et, vous?") Of course there was a six-course meal served, songs were performed by the sons and daughters of the hosts, and they even hired a theater group to perform a few scenes. It was unlike any birthday party I've ever attended, but it was really enjoyable. Gui's family are all incredibly generous and kind, and I'm finding myself easily opening up to them and feeling more and more a part of the family. It's a good feeling.
On Monday, I headed over to La Sorbonne to read an excerpt from a story and answer questions about it during my fifteen-minute oral exam. This part of the test counts for something like 30% of my final grade, but I was confident after the "très bien, Sarah" comment my professor gave me when it was all over. I breathed a sigh of relief, and went along with a few other relieved students to celebrate our accomplishment with a tasty lunch and casual conversation about how hard learning a new language (especially French) is. It was a really great way to end the semester, I thought, even if I never have the chance to see any of them again.
Of course Tuesday was spent watching the tides turn and our new president take office. Apparently, all of Paris was in search of a place to watch history being made, which left us stuck outside of an overcrowded bar and in search of a TV. We found hope in a kitshy, American diner that appeared like a neon beacon at the end of the same street as the bar. We arrived before the crowds and snagged a table front-and-center with a perfect view of the screen. Over fries, onion rings and mozzarella sticks, we watched it all unfold and then raised our glasses of red French table wine to toast to our new president. I doubt I'll be forgetting that moment anytime soon.
Wednesday nights are spent with the knitting group at L'Oisive Thé, and are designated "cook your own dinner, I'm going to knit" nights. (I don't think Gui minds, actually.) Since finishing my first scarf, I've become somewhat of an addict about knitting. I've spent hours and hours pouring over the Ravelry website, gushing at some the things people can make with a couple of needles and a ball of yarn. The possibilities are endless, which makes it so hard for me to choose what to tackle next. I'm realizing, though that it's not a cheap hobby to have and that a little investment is required to get started on the more rewarding projects. I recently ordered a set of Addi-click needles and am now anxiously awaiting their arrival so I can get started on some of those more challenging patterns. I'll admit that half of the fun is picking out patterns and choosing the yarn - I never knew there were so many choices!
I picked up some sale yarn on Thursday afternoon after a trip to the first cupcake boutique in Paris. Sam invited me to meet up with her, Leesa and Dawn to scope out Cupcakes & Co in the 11th arrondissement. I honestly didn't have very high expectations, so the cold, dense cupcake I dug into wasn't such a disappointment. The cupcakes were pretty, the frosting was tasty and made with true-blue Philly cream cheese, but the final product wasn't really worth raving about. I still had a good time and got some cheap yarn out of it, too!
This weekend turned out to be jam-packed with fun stuff with fun peeps. Gui and I checked out Slumdog Millionaire on Friday and loved it. I cried like a baby, of course, but totally dug the whole bollywood influence. The soundtrack will be mine! We finished off the night with a tex-mex dinner and a mosquito cocktail at El Rancho, which hit the spot. Saturday's lunch date with Juliet and Marc turned into an all-day event. We started out at Les Pâtes Vivantes (as usual, thank you, Mr. Lebovitz) for a [very] late lunch, and after being shooed out of there before we could have dessert, we headed over to Île Saint-Louis for some delicious Berthillon ice cream. We opted out of going bowling and decided to skip right on over to happy hour at one of our favorite bars in the 5th. Juliet introduced us to the best mojitos in Paris (and cheapest, too!) while she ran down a list of all the things she's lost to the streets or cabs or bars of the big city. There was some sort of blackout in the bar, so we downed our drinks and headed over to Belleville where we ended the eventful night in the company of old friends and preppy-dressed punk-rockers.
I managed to roll out of bed today in time to meet up for a 2 p.m. jazz brunch on the same street as the cupcake shop. It's the first time I've ever been to a buffet in Paris, and I'm pretty sure it won't be the last. There was a great variety of food (although not much in the form of traditional breakfast grub), bottomless OJ, wine, coffee and tea, and a slightly lacking, yet still delicious spread of desserts. The music wasn't without praise either, and I found the entire ambiance of the restaurant strikingly harmonious. It'll definitely be at the top of the list of places to take people visiting Paris in search of a good Sunday brunch. It's the closest I've seen in Paris to the real deal (although, it'd be nicer if they swapped out the bottomless wine for bottomless mimosas...or bloody marys).
Home for the holidays
So, we all but ran for the exit of the airport to the comfort of a 8-seater SUV, and headed out for our first meal: Taco Cabana
It was delicious! We picked up a few last minute gifts at Target, and headed back to my mom's place where we spent the night before heading out before dawn to be with my sister, brother-in-law and nephews for Christmas. But, before hitting the road, we stopped in for a diner breakfast that served us up some egg and sausage biscuits, waffles, grits and bottomless coffee.
We spent the next 8 hours driving north towards the freezing temps. Besides witnessing a truck drift off onto the icy shoulder, spin around a couple of times, and come to a dead halt in the middle of the highway before speeding off back down the road, the ride was pretty smooth and calm. We lucked out with the clear skies and got to my sister's place by lunchtime. But, I still had a lot of shopping to get done, so off to the malls I went. Man, do I miss malls!! I just about had a heart attack running into Banana Republic, J. Crew and Macy's, clean, perfectly in order, with smiling sales staff welcoming me into their sales-laden shops. I didn't have much time to shop for myself, but I still managed to pick up a few things that I just couldn't pass up.
I came back in time for Christmas Eve dinner. In our family, my mom usually sets up a spread of hors d'oeuvres for Christmas Eve - veggie tray, chips and queso, buffalo wings, crackers and cheese, pigs in a blanket, pies, cakes,... But, this year, my sister and brother-in-law decided to tackle the Christmas and pre-Christmas foodfest, and we ended up chowing down on some tasty grub that had everyone hoping for a repeat next year.
Christmas Day was merry and bright, just as it should be. We spent the entire day indoors, opening gifts, playing with new toys and enjoying the comforts of being safe at home with family. Even if it meant breaking the long time go-see-a-movie-on-Christmas tradition, it was worth spending the extra time interacting with the people I love but don't see often throughout the year.
Gui had the task of putting together the gift we "imported" from France, which he fervently took on as his project for the day. I spent my time playing some of my favorite board games (Mousetrap and Candyland) and sifting through the after-Christmas online sales at J. Crew.
Since Christmas, we've been doing what we do best - eating and shopping. I've become a frequent shopper again at Target, and my mom has morphed into my own personal chef, taking requests from me and my tastebuds. It's easy to get used to being back here - my family's so close, things are so familiar, but I've definitely had a fair share of reverse culture shock. Most notably different is the behavior of others. There's a culture of friendliness that it seems I've left behind. I've stopped remembering to apologize if I accidentally brush against someone, and it was shocking at first to hear people say "I'm sorry" or "excuse me" when they walk in front of me as I'm browsing the aisles. The accents are different too, and my drawl is back. I haven't walked further than from the parking lot to the front door since I've arrived, and I'm not complaining much about that, as cold and snowy as it's been here. Gui and I are off to Austin in a couple of days, and I can't wait to see all of my friends back home. One of my best friends in the world just had a baby boy, and I'm dying to meet him. I can already foresee the difficulties I'm going to have with returning to Paris and leaving it all behind again, so I'm just hoping I get an overdose of love while I'm here to hold me off until our next visit.
Two days and counting!
But, there's nothing like some holiday cheer to turn a frown upside-down. And, when I saw these beauties outside my neighborhood grocery store, I couldn't help but feel merry.
After class, my sweet mother-in-law scooped me up from our apartment and we shuffled off to Auchan to pick up the big bird that I'm going to roast on Thursday. I've been so worried about this turkey - Will it be fresh? Will it be big enough? Will it fit in my oven...in my fridge? - but, my belle-mère took care of the talking and the voilailler handed over a magnificent turkey for our special day. It was fresh from this morning and ready for baking. And, perhaps the best part is that it cost a mere third of what I would have paid at an American specialty shop in Paris. I skipped out of the store with my 8kg (read: 16 lbs) turkey in-hand and a Texas-sized smile. The holidays and food make me so happy! As soon as I came home, I gave the bird a nice look over and crossed my fingers that it'd fit in the roasting pan I bought.
And it did! I quickly arranged her in the oven to be sure it was big enough. And it was! That's a turkey what was meant for Thanksgiving, and I can't wait to get started!
Hey, look Mom! Snow!
Happy birthday, mum! Thank you for always radiating your young spirit, musical personality and infectious smiles. And, thanks for the snow. I love you!
Babies
Before getting married, Gui made it clear to me that he wanted to someday become a father. I've never had the "baby fever" that it seems everyone else gets, but coming from a large family, it still feels natural to think of growing a family. Over the past few months I've become really curious about motherhood, and I've found my mind drifting off into my hypothetical life as a mom. I see moms with with strollers on buses and metros and I think of how exhausting it must be to be a mom in this city. I notice young kids waiting at the bus station or hopping on the metro alone and I admire their independence yet question if I'd ever be able to trust my own offspring to tackle this big city alone. I walk by the kids in the park with their mothers or their nannies and wonder if we'll have to hire a nanny. I read the blogs of expat moms in bilingual families and speculate how we might one day communicate as a family. It's all stuff that I never pondered before, things that seemed so far off in time they weren't worth even thinking about. It's rather exhausting to consider all the possibilities, all the logistics and energy that must be go into being a parent. Can someone ever really be ready? I guess if we want to have a kid in three years, it might be a good idea to start our research and preparations now.
Although Gui and I aren't looking to add to our family today or tomorrow, I feel that "someday" is quickly morphing into "soon," and that makes me both curious and anxious. We've gone as far as thinking of names (boy names are so hard to come up with), but we haven't settled on how many kids make an ideal family (I have a feeling we won't settle on this until after we successfully have one). We've also talked about where the best place would be to raise our hypothetical kid(s), which is proving to be a harder question to answer than it seems. I can't imagine being pregnant without the massive support system of friends and family that I have in the States. Not to mention the physical challenges I'd have to overcome if we're still living in Paris. And, what about health care and education and language and cultural activities? So much to consider. So. Much. But, thankfully, I still have some time to do my homework and pick the brains of my girl friends back home. I'm sure by the time we're ready to take the plunge into parenthood, they'll be old pros and will have a fair share of advice and knowledge to share with us. And, then during their prepubescent years, we'll be shipping our kids off to each others' homes for a yearly cultural exchange of sorts. Although, maybe it's still too early to start planning how I'm going to get rid of my adolescent kid.
Redefining holidays
As a kid, I can't recall if I loved dressing up for Halloween, but I do remember that I loved to pretend I was a witch - specifically, the wicked witch of the West. Blame it on my mom's (and consequently, my) obsession with the Wizard of Oz, which I can still recite verbatim from beginning to end. I think I always felt like I resembled the green-faced, black-haired villain, who many of us now endearingly call Elphaba. I've never felt so comfortable in pretending to be someone else as I did when I was a witch. Reflecting on this now makes me wonder if there's an underlying psychological reason for that. Hmmm.
This Halloween, there wasn't a witch in sight. In fact, besides a few random youngsters dressed as zombies and dead clowns, hardly anyone seemed to notice it was Halloween night. (Did I just use the word youngsters?!) I didn't even see one packet of fun-size M&Ms, Skittles or Tootsie-pops. Instead of handing out candy to ghosts and ballerinas, Emily and I caught an early evening showing of Mamma Mia, which I happened to score free tickets to from Gui's dad. It was such a great movie. Normally, I cringe during musicals; everything's so happy and smiley and terribly contrived. Call me uncultured, but there's something that makes me feel awkward when I'm watching a movie and the cast bursts out in song and dance mid-sentence. But, this movie really changed my mind about all that. After the first episode of random song and dance, an overwhelming feeling of happiness came over me and I started singing along. I knew about half of the songs they sang and after the movie ended, Emily and I were talking about downloading the soundtrack (or digging up mom's old Abba albums). It's one of those movies that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and I highly recommend seeing it if you haven't.
We ended the night discussing the next un-celebrated holiday (Thanksgiving) over frozen margaritas and a delicious platter of fried, Tex-Mex finger-foods. Unlike Halloween, Thanksgiving is a holiday that, for me, I expect will be difficult to replicate or forget. The one year I spent Thanksgiving away from home, I found some comfort in familiar foods at the Texas Embassy, but the rest of the year still felt slightly askew. That November holiday is the one day when I can expect to see cousins, aunts, uncles and friends that I otherwise rarely see during the course of the year. My dad has nine siblings and my mom, eight, so seeing all of my extended family is nearly an impossible task. Thanksgiving is usually the day when my relatives near and far get together to reminisce over one crazy big meal. Not everyone shows up, but I find that each year I see someone I haven't seen in ages, and catching up on the time in between is what Thanksgiving is all about for me.
This year, although I don't expect to see any long-lost family members, I'm looking forward to celebrating the holiday like I never have before, and that makes me super excited. I feel like it's time for me to start new traditions with my family and friends here, all of who I'm grateful to know and spend time with. This year, Gui and I decided to host Thanksgiving dinner chez nous, so I'm a little worried about how everything will turn out (man, I hope I don't burn the turkey). But I guess new traditions have to start somewhere...
Belle-mère's chocolate cake
So, I've discovered that my favorite cake to bake is chocolate cake. After receiving an intimidatingly simple recipe from my MIL, I gave it a shot and ended up with a delicious, soft and fluffy chocolate cake. I've never made a chocolate cake before - not even the boxed kind, not brownies, not cupcakes, and now that I have this trusty recipe, it's going to be a regular around here. I only had three eggs on hand, so I just reduced everything a smidge (except for the chocolate) and it turned out perfectly. Since there weren't any instructions on baking the cake, I took the advice of one of my favorite food bloggers and figured it was ready when it was ready.
I can't wait to try it as a moelleux au chocolat next time, and I'm totally going to look for a recipe for crème anglaise to dress it up a bit, too (as both were so kindly suggested). This time around, it's been a delicious dessert and the perfect accompaniment to café au lait in the morning.
House guest
I don't generally have good luck with pet-sitting cats, having had one die under my watch (the cat had complications from a previous ailment that I didn't know still persisted...it was a devastating experience for me), and my temperament around kids and animals tends to be hyper-sensitive to any possible dangerous scenarios - I let my fears become theirs, so, taking care of a homesick cat is seriously stressful for me.
During the first few nights, he'd sometimes start meowing sadly and loudly which would keep me up for a while trying to figure out what to do to make him better. Gui could see my frustration and suggested a change of scenery. At 5AM the best we could do was show him the stairwell, which actually suited him just fine. The meowing stopped and he's been in slightly better spirits since.
Now, we're taking him out to the stairwell for some regular change of scenery. I've also made a few adjustments to our furniture arrangements and added a mosquito screen to the window rails to prevent any accidental base-jumping, but I'm still paranoid as ever over his whereabouts during the day and his safety while we're away. Too bad it's so impossible to comfortably have a dog in Paris because now more than ever I'm sure we won't be having a cat.
French recipe
AMADEUS
4 personnes:
4 eggs, 75g sugar, 100 g black chocolate
100g butter ( 10g for the mould ), 55 g flour ( 10 g for the mould)
oven : 210
Now, that's what I call simple. I'll give it a try and post about how it turns out - looks like I'll be figuring a lot out on my own.
Sweet surprise
I was attempting to make this "Easy Jam Tart" that was recently posted on one of the blogs that I stalk. I didn't have any cornmeal so I stuck with the recipe that it was originally adapted from and used only flour. But, after combining everything, the dough seemed so sticky. I went back to reread the recipe and realized that somehow I used 100 grams less flour than I was supposed to. After a little cursing, I added the missing flour into the dough, but not having mixed the added flour with the baking powder and salt, I was worried about how it'd turn out. I also don't have a springform pan, so I was worried about how that might affect the baking process.
Not being a baker and all, this easy tart wasn't as easy as it should've been, but after it came out of the oven, I breathed a small sigh of relief. It seemed to turn out just fine. After a delicious dinner of lasagna rolls and salad, I nervously served it up to my (French) mother-in-law and received a round of compliments. The apricots were super sweet, so having forgotten to add the token cassonade to the crust (grrrr), I was a little relieved that the key ingredient wasn't missed so much. Now that I have my shiz together, the easy jam tart just might live up to its name next time around.