foodie adventures
A few months ago, I was introduced to a strange girl with a winning smile, who had a crazy resemblance to Emma Watson.
Let us call her Hermione (:
Hermione @ La Provence (Brentwood)
I believe that in another life, Hermione and I would have been sisters.
We have the similar experiences, histories, outlooks in life, a wild passion for dessert, and most importantly – the willingness to hunt for GOOD FOOD.
Also we both laugh really loudly (though hers is more charming), and we have no qualms speaking publicly about things – bowel movements, hairy legs, and so forth – that are usually considered to be “TMI.”
But in every sense of the word, she is the most joyful person that I know. Also ambitious, driven, a list-maker, full of life and care for others. Yes, I am writing an ad for her, but no she really doesn’t need it. Oh well (:
FOODIE RULE: don’t be afraid to have dessert before dinner/lunch!
Today’s adventures began at Hotcakes Bakes, a quaint and very pink cupcake store on Centinela. The workers were extremely friendly, and seriously…I can’t get over the pinkness inside!
lemon cupcake: recommend !
so pink (:
love the blackboard.
Lots of signs and postcards from people who’ve had ordered their cakes, and groups who’ve had batches of cupcakes made !
heartfelt !
Then off to the loveliest little cafe in Brentwood: La Provence !
La Provence (Brentwood)
DESSERT !
Macarons (<3) or..."macaroons" in America.
I’ve never had a macaron before tonight, but the moment their hazelnut macaron hit my taste buds, I knew it was over. I was hooked ! It was one of those orgasmic experiences, one where you can foresee the midnight cravings and “I NEED HAZELNUT MACARON!” moments during finals week.
Definitely recommend ! Also a cute date place / read by yourself with afternoon tea place (:
To end:
Lenka !!
Thank you lovely roomie (: It was a wonderful night ~ with…quite an interesting experience. Ask me about it !
Until next time lovelies.
where is the hope ?
(via badhuman)
Almost midnight, but S and I just had delicious cornbread fresh out of the oven – drizzled with honey and dunked in milk, the most comforting food you can ask for (:
There is certain group of people in my life that fits into a special niche. Perhaps they are not quite in tune with the world, but I believe they are all the more beautiful for it.
It’s a secret society of individuals who have the extraordinary capacity to see, capture, and create beauty in their world…one that is broken and always in need of healing. Yet they never give up – despite being overwhelmed, angry, heartbroken at times – they understand that hope is a fragile thing, a precious thing, one that needs to be nurtured in order to stay alive, and thus keep those who depend on it, alive as well.
I am taking some very interesting classes for my final year as a Global Studies major, and the issues we cover – HIV/AIDS, antiretroviral drugs, nuclear testing – have opened my eyes to the atrocity committed by those who claim the responsibility to protect and to serve. Money makes the world go ’round, and without it there is no incentive to save the 4.4 million dying, nor is there any hesitation to ‘test’ nuclear bombs on native islanders while destroying the only home they’ve known for, well…ever.
Scientists are currently worrying about what kind of “WARNING-DANGER” sign to put on an inverted volcanic site in Mexico, where all the nuclear waste will be dumped and sealed. Anthropologists are worried about the future human species some 5000 years down the line – what kind of transhistorical sign should we put over the seal to let them know that this is an radioactive site, and to stay away?
They decided on a bed of nettles and thorns.
Meanwhile, Marshallese locals, orphans and pregnant mothers in the slums, everyday people at a Boston square, and the dog-park on Barrington and Sunset, have all been left to deal with the horrific consequences of these nuclear tests.
Sometimes, I really wonder just where people get the hope to keep fighting for good. Goodness always seems to be a losing battle.
But one day, it will win the war.
So until then…..FIGHT ON !
My Life in France
My Life in France by Julia Child
So recently I have been meandering through Julia Child’s lovely book about her travels in France with her hubby, all their foodie adventures as well as life lessons, and I must say…it has been one amazing journey.
Over the years I’ve gotten into the habit of zipping through books, often finishing them faster than what would be considered healthy. But with this one, I took my sweet, sweet time. And boy was it worthwhile ! Her stories are so chock-full of delicious little details and tender memories, it seemed only proper to slow down and enjoy them. As I plod along night after night in my bed with le cheelds, the other half of the book gradually thins…and I’m filled with a certain sadness, knowing that this wonderful journey will come to an end, soon. But not quite yet !
(: So let us rejoice, by learning how the French deal with extreme inebriation.
Julia Child
What to do if you are passed out on the floor from over-consumption of alcohol, according to the French:
“…[Chef Verge, a good friend of Julia Child's, recalls how his aunt would cure his uncle of extreme alcohol consumption] We’d start eating and drinking around ten o’clock Sunday morning, and we wouldn’t stop till about five. At that point, the men would all troop out into the village, where they’d spend an hour or two in the cafe drinking aperitifs.The women washed up and began cooking dinner.
Julia Child and Chef Bugnard of The Cordon Bleu
One of my uncles – he must have been seventy-five at the time – would get so drunk that he’d fall on the floor. When the eating and drinking started up again, my aunt would take a pair of scissors and cut a vein in his ear. By the time he’d bled enough, he’d get up and join right in with the rest of us!”
Wowza.
(: bleed it out hm ?
weird tuesday.
( via thedirtypretty(s) )
We had an odd morning today.
At 3 am, the sound of pebble-hitting-window (which is not as cute as it seems) began unceasingly with occasional screeches of ” BREE ! “
I think our neighbor got locked out and she was, unfortunately, inebriated.
At 6:54 am, Outkast started singing loudly and upon further inspection, it was revealed that my BOSS was calling…to tell me that she was not coming in to work until noon, and would it be okay if I went into work early ? Of course madame.
At 8:30 am, the drilling and the pounding started.
Management had decided to redo the pipings and such…so there will be no water until 5 pm, only a lot of banging and “TCHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR”-ing.
Now I am at work, with little to do and a very unhappy supervisor next door about the furlough days that are muddling everything up.
Oh well !
This is something to cheer us all up:
( via That Obscure Thing )
Jeffery Dean Morgan….what a man.
