I had a religious experience on Friday. Wandering through the Marais, our mission to procure more pants (ah, adulthood) complete, the Purrito stopped in front of the window of a Jewish bakery and pointed at a loaf of halle bread. Having walked this road many times before, always refusing the offer, I was prepared to dismiss …
Easter is the best holiday. It’s the best holiday for two reasons: first, despite the cuteness applied to all of the associated animals, it’s a sex-and-fertility party that has been (not particularly effectively, in my view) repurposed as a party for a zombie. My anthropology professor in college (oh liberal arts electives) hammered into us …
It is probable that, if asked, the Purrito would state that I have the palate of a child. Were I in said room, I would protest that I don’t have the palate of a child, and would proceed to flail in the argument until, in desperation, that I don’t know any kids that like wine, …
For reasons unknown to us beyond “well, why the hell not?”, we decided to go for a mostly-French-style Christmas eve feast, albeit with a few modifications (said modifications consisted of omitting two courses [oysters and St. Jacques] and moving the beginning of the festivities to 1700, as the whole eat-from-midnight-to-0600 thing is not at all compatible with …
The Purrito arched an eyebrow at me, not bothering to hide her mixture of doubt and incredulity as, a couple of weeks ago I informed her of my plans to attempt to cook over the long weekend while she returned to Texas. Her reaction would have tweaked my pride, had I not had my own doubts …
Having cancelled our reservations to Ralph’s due to illness on my part, we decided to give Deliveroo a try. The restaurants in our quartier that participate are largely of interest, and we recognized immediately that the service might prove to be dangerous when we confirmed that they deliver foie gras, toasts (I should write a …
If there’s a chicken on the label, it’s probably pretty good.
Since it was Christmas, a friend of mine came over to help bake an enormous batch of cookies. We made fluffy snickerdoodles, brown-butter chocolate chip cookies, raspberry roll-ups (that ended up looking more like brains, but a little silver powder fixed it), and some of Geep’s favorite peanut butter kiss cookies. The smell of baking …
( Firstly, I have a bad head cold, so this may seem more like rambling than a composed post, so I’m sorry. However, IT’S MY BLOG, I CAN RAMBLE IF I WANT TO! *throws fit on floor* Being sick sucks.) Carried in with the new chilly breeze blowing through our chic little city, comes my …
Fezzik In Paris 