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Intermezzo. Biancomangiare .... almost a Bavarian

Now that the wind has subsided and returned to the contours to be defined and known everything should appear as before. Instead, nothing is the same.
Because I saw a distant place where there are all my dreams, I saw it while I kept in balance on the edge of my little world whipped by wind and storm, and now I want to go there.
I can not think of anything else. I want to leave.

Here, everything is back to normal but not mine anymore. Each eye is goodbye, each I guess a farewell gesture while traveling. Continuation of my invention

sweet. The pastry is ready. The almond milk has reached the perfect aroma. The hand with a fine sieve.

The sun is hidden behind mountains of whipped cream and the light comes filtered and gray. Rest well my eyes and savor the silence found that howl and the wind whistles as he did before.
Everything is still, calm. It's strange the moment after the storm.
Madness wind has moved, lifted, reversed everything and pulled the curtain behind which to hide. He pulled the strings that held part of my courage. And now ... ... I'm a balloon.

Before I try the traditional recipe for blancmange, that old saying to coagulate the milk of almonds with the starch, making it a pudding. But it would eliminate the "dusty" thickening the milk with the help of only agar agar. A teaspoon is not enough, then I add another. Is it too. One and a half will be the perfect dose: 4 grams per liter of milk. Then
100g almond paste dissolved in a pint of milk and thickened with 4g of agar agar. Easy.

Browse all the obstacles that I should pass on the trip. Seeking
, weak and without much conviction, to put myself alone for fear that I am not lost before the real fear, I imagine the difficulties and possible disappointments to face him before a knock at the door and, subtly, find a way to stick to my ankles without my noticing. I would like nothing and no one could stop and tell myself that I will not fear never even know it's not true.

Whip cream. Dissolve the gelatin.
The blancmange is a pudding and I do not like the consistency of pudding. I'm also thinking about a fresh and soft filling for a crunchy shell ... so .... I go beyond the and from a Bavarian pudding.
No eggs, no .... No eggs.
The almond milk is cold and the gelatin has started to thicken it. It 's time to mix with the cream semi assembled.
Time to complete the work begun.
smile thinking that my trip got under way before I knew it and now seems to twist itself, dragging with him.
smile in silence, smiling away in the wind, smile at me and I close my eyes to see where to go with your heart, look once again that world "beyond" the border where I know there are my dreams, that place far I is waiting.

shortbread recipe that will be the support of the cake found in the previous post .
Now here is one of the Bavarian-blancmange that is the soul of the preparation.
the cake will be complete soon and I ... .. where I get here?
must keep reading to find out ... ... ... ... ..

White-Bavarian almonds and cream


500ml milk 100g almond paste in the dough (just almonds and brown sugar)

250ml cream 10g of gelatine

Heat milk and melt the stick of almond paste.
When the milk has taken all the aromas, filter it, heat it again and dissolve the gelatin rehydrated.
Allow to cool and mix in the cream semi assembled.

Pour the fake Bavarian bowl or pudding mold and refrigerate. Serve with a drawstring fruit or chocolate sauce.

course I thought I'd pass along the "Golosizia" the most successful of the moment: Scarlett, jelly nero d'Avola and oranges. Who has tried it knows that I'm wrong !!!!!

, & # 160; , & # 160; The sweet complete in the next post, soon.

Samoan Quotes On Love

recurrence

Unfortunately this time it's true ..
I have another injury to the sternum.
I'm getting really Ossobuco!
However, with a course of radiotherapy should stop more ... I hope.
strange life.
Really very strange. A hug

Anna Ossoduro

ps: obviously if the cancer is believed to stench wrong.
'm so angry with him!
I'll make him an ass like that!

Do I Have Bronchitis Or Strep

upsets and Tramontana. Shortbread with lentil. The dreams of women

Blowing strong Tramontana.
Tramontana wind that takes away the reason, the wind of madness.

I made an infusion with milk with almonds, a mixed pastry a bit 'different from the usual that now rests in a cool place.

watching the trees shake violently, seem engaged in close combat with an invisible enemy.
I Have an Enemy.
Invisible, but I see it very well. Our struggle is no less shocking with this rash of violence, the foliage of the tall pines here out.
In the vortex of this rage I think "hold on". Clenched his fists, and I say "hold on", grit my teeth and I say "hold on".

Dark Chocolate ...? White? Flick packs lined up neatly in the pantry. Dark, dark, 60%, take this. I tried

impatience and anger.
I walked and walked up to the edge of my ability and I have seen the world that lies beyond, it is another new and beautiful country, another continent, a place that I can not reach. I sat crying in anger until he arrived the night wind, the wind steals reason and compound le carte, il vento che travolge le paure e confonde tutte le linee tracciate. Spazza le certezze e ingarbuglia i paesaggi.
Ho lasciato che si prendesse la mia inutile ragione e mi sono vestita con il sorriso dei folli.
I capelli spettinati e gonfi di vento, le guance arrossate e occhi ardenti, eccomi ora.

Gusci di frolla, cioccolato…..crema di biancomangiare………..voglio volare via, volare appesa a questa Tramontana appassionata ed impetuosa.
Vedo nella mia immaginazione questo dolce che ancora non esiste: provo i sapori con la fantasia, l’uno posato delicatamente sull’altro.
Filtro e passo. Assaggio. La temperatura deve scendere ancora prima di aggiungere la cream.

The enemy has his throat tightened under my knee. For now.
I know it can bite, grab and shake the ground.
he can win.
Or I can win.
Tramontana, the wind of crazy, help me or take me off his mind?
Everything seems easy, everything seems too difficult. While
Tramontana upsets the trees and rises reels of paper and leaves, stealing hats and banging doors and windows I walk on the edge of the border, rest balanced on the rope like a balanced look drunk and beyond: a new continent. And I want to go there. The sweet

must be assembled and finished. Tasting at your fingertips bodes well.
I think the presentation, how to dress up this creature, daughter of the Tramontana.
For now I write the recipe of the cake with which you can also make delicious biscuits, different from usual. You know ... .... Coming from a distant place to another continent ... ... ... .. ... ... .. beautiful and mysterious beyond.



Shortcake lentil


150g plain flour 50g lentil flour

100g butter 100g caster sugar 1 large egg

a cap rum

blast butter and flour and grind into tiny crumb, add the sugar. Mix with egg and rum. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and let rest in refrigerator.
Roll out the dough to about 4mm in height and cut with cookie size. Bake at 180 degrees for about 20 minutes.

The shortbread with lentil flour have a slight hint of chocolate.
are excellent paired with a filling the toffee (such as those of the picture) or a chocolate ganache.

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The dreams of women wake up every morning with the smell of coffee.
Then they go out with them in the morning fresh and packed in heavy bags so full that it seems a bazaar peddler. In the street
recognize each other, greet each puncturing the layer of solitude in which some women are wrapped. The dreams of women happy, squinting in the warm light of the sun and savor the clean air.
Dreams lighter grazing the brisk jump of cheerful young people who throw themselves into the spring roll to play the other mothers' skirts tired smile indestructible. Some people like cats nestled in the lap of the women sitting on park benches and snoring caressed by their thin hands and old, used to wipe the sadness everywhere you. When
Women are spending chasing their dreams, they run through the shelves and pushing carts dangerously high speed. The speakers are recomposed, stop laughing and start doing somersaults and trotted along with the women back home. Smile floor, hot and tired.
In the days of wind and rain cling to the dreams of women with their umbrella and hold it tight to keep it flying away. At night they sing a sweet song, a lullaby to fall asleep because women serene until the next sunrise, but if a woman is sad and crying, then cry with her, without ceasing to sing sweetly although no one seems to listen.
The dreams that were lost or left waiting to fly away another woman in the streets that collect them. Never think of the past, not afraid of anything. They sit on the fence dangling his feet in the air and set the moon in the clear blue sky. Especially when a woman goes where the tears have washed away all the dreams of infinite sadness and trembling hand tend hoping she takes them with him.
The dreams of women are like rafts in stormy seas, are hot air balloons flying high in the clear sky, the rainbow is a bridge between joy and sorrow, the rainbow bridge that leads them elsewhere, where women are hidden when they want to be alone.
When a woman dreams of her eyes light illuminates the enchanted world and everything.

Tutte noi abbiamo sogni grandi e sogni piccoli. E poi una quantità inesauribile di immaginazione.
Ecco cosa passa per la testa di alcune amiche:




Ely fa un sacco di cose e non sta solo in cucina, a dispetto del nome del suo blog.
E’ una lettrice vorace come me, ama i libri in un modo che amo.
Ha avuto un’idea geniale e romantica, andate a vedere cosa fanno i suoi “ libri vagabondi”.



Un po’ di tempo fa Tattina è venuta a darmi una mano. La piccola è una cuochetta or in the leg and there she ra printed in a book of his own, signed Tatti . Maybe you could win and certainly, if you wish, you may buy it.
All Special Tatti and a game not to be missed!







My dream? Floating in the ether, and indeed often seems unattainable. For now tentatively open this little shop. If you like it will remain open and be enriched by new things.
Pull the bell and enter. The dreams remain just feel sad.

Tutti i banner sono a disposizione, prendete pure quelli legati al sogno che vi piace di più!!!!!!!!!!!

Any Idea For A Company Newsletter Name?

Why is San Remo San Remo?


Why Max Pezzali Ashlar is so bad? Why not Iggy Pop. Go
monghidoro.blogspot.com that is beautiful.

---------------- Now playing: BB King - I Love To Live The Life
via FoxyTunes

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Amanda. Almond cake and cream, mystery and echoes of the future

 

 

Non avevo mai incontrato una civetta così da vicino.
Ha attraversato in volo il parco e ha raggiunto la parte sbagliata. Al confine estremo si è posata interdetta per guardarsi intorno e capire qualcosa.
Dalla sommità del muro che confina con il rado traffico domenicale mi fissa con occhi sbalorditi, io la fisso con occhi altrettanto sgranati dalla sorpresa.
Si china e si appiattisce on the stone hiding from view, perhaps scared or bothered by the noise and lights.
I fixed that thing with the nose in the air gray, flattened on top of the wall, and I am convinced of her dream, I think it's a cat that makes him stupid or a rat in a wheel.
you hear my absurd thoughts and with one click stands in all its height and resumes dignity.
Plant firmly round his eye suffered reproach in my eyes in disbelief without just cause (according to her). We remain chained
eye to eye, wrapped in a swirl of dark forces.
Then someone shouts "Here, here!" And then she spreads its wings and rises again in flight, toward the wrong side of the road.
He leans on the highest branch of the tree higher than across the border. From there you will find perhaps the best references and relevant evidence to understand what he is doing and what is finally the right way to go.
You grab the dark of the night and dress.
I greet you and let her thoughts. Shooting my way I feel the gaze of his large round eyes rested on my back that goes.

Part of her I got stuck in the eye and in wonder. Far
mumbles feebly echo of a mysterious future that is approaching with stealthy step.
Or maybe a cat that is stupid. In the fridge are

avanzati: tre uova, della panna, della pasta frolla.
Le mie mani non vogliono stare ferme, i miei pensieri non vogliono spegnersi anche se girano con lentezza, sbandando stanchezza.
Accendo il forno e stendo la frolla.

 

 

 

 

Frolla fine

200g di farina
100g di burro
100g di zucchero
3 tuorli più un uovo intero
Scorza di limone grattugiata
Sale

Fodero uno stampo by 24cm in diameter and 5cm high with the pastry and refrigeration.
Then I get on the highest branch of the tree top, and looking round the boundary line, the end of the world.
or the beginning of the future.
Frugo between thoughts and deflated weakened and I give up the evening.
the evening even if it is sweet smells of cold air.

For the filling use leftovers and a little 'footage


100g almonds 10g of kernels (bitter almonds) 3 egg yolks and 2 clear


100g flour 50g butter
150g cream
a cap rum

purée the almond flour without making it too fine. Beat the egg yolks with sugar until they are puffy and fluffy and then add the softened butter. So join the almonds, then flour and cream alternately and finally the rum, while continuing to mount with the whip.
When the mixture is smooth and soft and I mount the egg whites gently incorporate.

Offset useless, worn out thoughts and rummage through the leftovers. ... I find half jar of Eve, the jam and cinnamon apples with raisins and pine nuts. Eva looks out from a recent past and I guess into the future. Reflect. An echo sighs
indefinitely.
decide smears and half jar of jam on the bottom of the mold coated con la pasta e poi ricopro con la farcia alle mandorle.
Inforno per i primi 10 minuti a 200° e poi abbasso a 180° e continuo la cottura per un’altra mezzora.

La spio dall’oblò del forno, la guardo crescere. Sorrido compiaciuta dei suoi progressi e attendo con ansia che sia pronta, che sia dorata e gonfia. La aspetto, la provo con lo stecchino ed è ora di tirarla fuori.
Sforno. Si chiamerà Amanda.

Poco fa una civetta mi è svolazzata sulla testa ed io ho perso residui di un bagaglio inutile: pensieri sfibrati e lisi. Ora sembra tutto stranamente incantato e lento. Sospeso. Come una promessa il cui eco, lontano, brontola sommesso.

Dicono che le civette portino sfortuna.
Dicono, alcuni, che portino fortuna.
Rievoco il suo sguardo nel mio e volo altrove, chissà se dalla parte giusta?

Il gatto, miagolando, corre e fa lo stupido.

 

 

Half Head Highlights Or Full Head

Considering that Love has no price ........

 

 

 

ASCOLTA  LA  MUSICA

Gli inizi di ogni cosa, di un’avventura, sono invisibili. Dentro un inizio ci cadi dentro come in una buca: se l’avessi vista per tempo l’avresti evitata per il solo fatto che si trattava di una buca. Profondità incerta, destinazione sconosciuta, effetti collaterali imponderabili.
Fortunatamente gli inizi sono invisibili.
Come l’Amore: invisibile.
L’aria è satura, la musica esplode dai tombini, ti colpisce all’improvviso svoltando da un angolo.
I colori più belli sono tutti stesi sotto al sole ma lui, l’Amore, resta invisibile.
Non l’Amore da celebrare oggi, nel giorno di San Valentino, incastonato nel calendario mondano come una scheggia, subito prima di San Remo: tripudio di santi e chiacchiere and a large movement of money!

No, whereas ... ... ... ... .... that Love is priceless ... ... ... ....
you can not buy. You can not look stupid and is also waiting for him.
only spending makes sense.
clay shaped like a house of cards, or make bold, long pearl necklaces, sewn in silk dresses and sun, maybe.
spend and forget about it.
thrown away, throw it in a sling, like a magician to free the dove out of the cylinder. Please provide
without knowing what it holds and without wondering whether we should keep a cash register.
let it slip from his pockets, lose it through the streets with happy indifference.
Considering that Love has no price ... ... ... let it go without saying even knowing its value.
Watch it fly high like a balloon, looking at him with eyes of wonder, look at it without trying to understand.
They told me that Love is not a reliable map and is not a safe companion.
Better to buy something more concrete, I'm told. But
. ... Whereas ... ... ... ... Love is priceless ... .... I realized that was not true.

Love is a hole where it dropped to distraction.
Love is the beginning of everything and the real substance of what follows.
Love is invisible because they are too big for the eye of those who are not crazy.
Love is a flying carpet.

Long as I can hear you whisper your name anywhere near you.
long I'll put love in what I do I'll have a breath of spring in the days of any season.
And when your name resound like an echo or air blowing biting deaf suddenly a sad day, I will not forget that what is Love.
slowly stretch out the palm of your hand and I'll look through the dew of a caress.
And everything will be okay.

Considering that Love has no price I will pay ... .. with all the love, all the love I have.


And if now would be logical to close with a recipe for honey and molasses, but with a sudden blow to the kidneys and sudden change of tone, you disappoint.
I keep toying on the notes of the last piece of Jovanotti, someone like no other, but I envy the most beautiful song text of the century. And
toying review the latest things I've discovered recently:

• So do catering for a hundred people, I hope I do not happen ever again in life and that dream happen again and a thousand times! (Zero in line, I know).

• Do not take the lead but a good shoulder and gives an incredible deep satisfaction: excluding vanity and its empty flattery here is the measurement and the true meaning of things, friendship and love. It's great even for someone like me, rather than the protagonist.

• My blog is very different from everyone else, mainly because of my congenital problems to be similar to others. As a result of my readers are what they are !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
you strangle one by one if I could !!!!!!!!!

& # 160; Who is the winner ??????

Explain why all the other blog if there are contests and competitions we have neatly in a row, leave comments and links in the appropriate spazi e segnalate le opportune informazioni invece A ME:
mi avete spalmato commenti a destra e sinistra ndo’ capita, capita e persino avete preso il banner senza dirmi niente (!!!! Ma che vi fa schifo ricevere la scatoletta in palio?!?!??!).

Questo per dirvi che ho fatto una fatica boia per rintracciare tutti gli aventi diritto all’estrazione ed il tempo che ci ho messo non è stato comunque sufficiente a smettere di sentirmi infelice per tutti quelli che non avrei potuto dichiarare vincitori (si lo so….vincitori di poca cosa ma pur sempre…..)

Lasciatemelo dire: sono fiera, fiera di voi!!!!! Sono fiera di aver messo al mondo un blog atipico, anticonvenzionale ed anarchico che si merita i lettori che ha: presenze vere e sincere, niente ipocrisia e commenti gettati al vento per farsi vedere, persone vive e bellissime!!! Benché orribilmente anarchiche (ora voglio vedere se fate casino anche altrove!)

Bene…….con questo la faccio breve…..

La scatolina se l’è aggiudicata, previa imparziale (e faticosa) estrazione, Ely .
Urrà per Ely ,  sono lieta che un po’ di me ( e di Miranda) ti raggiunga lassù, tra i monti!
Della mia stima ed affetto già sai e a chi I say you do not yet know from looking up to you, will surely not be wasted time.
Get the details for shipping!
wonder if someday I'll ship myself up there even in the mountains to meet you in person, than I'd like!

A hug to all of you who have been next to me with messages, emails and phone calls.
Thanks to those who have come to keep me company and it was great to know or find.
Thanks also to those who, for mysterious reasons, they came and did not show up (my dazzled by the overwhelming beauty that left them speechless ??!!!). Thanks

Whereas ... ... ... ... ... ....

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The appearance and substance. Biscuits for tea.

It is said that the eye wants its part. Sometimes the party claiming that he and most of them. Not to mention that appearances can be deceiving. On the other hand must be part of the eye and give it the best thing to do is explain to the eye as well to distinguish the quality of the substance.
Why the eye, you know, is often superficial and frivolous.
The last time I pulled my eye was a bin in front of a bakery those who really can not say no. Painted wood and decorative style of the eighteenth century, leaves and curls of brass and a counter that seemed to come out of another era and another world. And those cakes: beautiful !!!!!! The mini version
cakes cost a fortune. But watch and wallet decide in unison to be very good. And I bought three. They send the information to the palate and tongue and ... ... ... remain true rather perplexed. Say perplexed? Mann, say it like it is: they are disappointed, bitter, sinking in misery!!
The cakes are stylistically impeccable, aesthetically perfect, artistically brilliant. But
suck! Oh well ... sucks too, is disappointed that the talks.
But, objectively, or not worth the price or cost extra pounds that will leave the critical points. They are vapid, insipid, useless in the world. Yet I read
great things about this bakery. Then, if the eye is unreliable (not always, at least) possible that the language has so little credibility in the brain?
really has so little substance? In this china
could end up talking about macarons that, and I cordially detest the pastry hoax of the century (with the appropriate distinctions and appropriate exemptions) but leave the steep slope at other times.
I want to believe that the very substance and bank accounts. But the eye. ... Eh, the eye wants its part and there are no saints!

time ago, looking for my custom packaging, I was obsessed with the idea of \u200b\u200ba casket containing teaspoons pastry. A nice gift for the invitation to a tea, no?
Nowhere could, however, find the stencil that I needed and so I am made to do a customized, ceramic. Manco

a month later and promptly went out the stencil can not remember which blogger it into biscuits and place them. And so my idea was just born old though! But

old chicken makes good soup and what about these biscuits? To me they seem delicious.

Ingredients:


400g flour 200g butter 200g sugar

4 egg yolks + 1 whole egg
The rind of a lemon grated
A cap of rum

blast butter and flour and grind into tiny crumbs. Add the sugar and then the lemon zest. Mix with eggs and rum, to warm quickly and without butter. Then wrap the dough in plastic wrap and let rest in refrigerator.

Cut the biscuits in the shape that you prefer then brush the biscuits with a little egg yolk mixed with a little water and decorated with almonds in layers.

The substance consists of delicate shortbread cookies by the end of the palate and the eye will not of course I rejoice to say.

was summer when ... ... ... ..

 

 

inviai questa pagina per il Diario 2011 di Lucy .   Allora questo giorno sembrava un futuro lontano e mi chiedevo “chissà cosa starò facendo il 10 febbraio?”

Bene, il futuro è qui oggi. Cosa starò facendo?  Ma non vi ricordate che sabato c’è l’inaugurazione di Miranda?????? In cucina…presto, presto, presto!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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to mariners and explorers. Cannelés Les Bordelais.

 

 

I have a map, a treasure map. A little 'yellowed, faded lettering and consumed time and usage. I have compiled a map enriching day after day, entering details, updating the findings. We are explorers
freaks, each seeking his own Holy Grail. I learned that no matter how or if the cup is a cup, the important thing is to look for.
The important thing is to travel, the important thing is to grow every day.
Better to have a map.
on my map there are several fixes, changes of location and a few exclamation points that are placed there, where I met what was really surprising.
There are spots of grease and stains. And impatience commas.
There are still many unexplored areas and points quite dark but this is the best part of the map, I think.
Those areas are so thunderously silent, smell spices and promises!
And then there are red marks, underlining that serve to remind us that there are already and now it seems nothing but what was hard to get there! It is good that these signs are never removed because they just look all that space unknown, too full of secrets, it makes me dizzy and scary to think how many things are still to be conquered.
is not for vanity, not for pleasure: watching the signs of conquest, slide your finger on me reminds me of the tenderness and it was nice to do all this way. In this experimental

geography there are cities and there are moments: there is the dawn in Paris, here, here.
Far from the monuments and tourists wakes up the market of rue Mouffetard. Case after case and between the loud voices of the porters, wearing dress of bright colors of oranges and tomatoes. The excessive quantity of oysters to impress me.
I love watching the mounds of colorful vegetables, Arcimboldo and suck out as the smell of the fruit. On the right, in the workshop of maitre chocolatier, a golden fountain gushing chocolate, coffee next to it where I like to have breakfast. Every morning I sit at the table in front of the room, away from the counter. But only after taking my booty in front of delights in the oven. Pastries, cakes and ... .... A little magic. A red segnetto

Paris, here it is. There's another on Villefranche, are now on the Riviera.
It's almost sunset. Going from the fortress on the sea, up a steep lane to get onto another narrow street. This marks the country that fans out from there and slide down the hill towards the sea. On the right is
un laboratorio di pasticceria scuro e poco appariscente. Neanche tanto invitante , a dire il vero, certo ben lontano da certi sfarzi e certi Hermè e dalle mise eleganti che fanno moda e tendenza. Ma in fondo al bancone le vedo…..quelle piccole magie. Così, ogni volta che posso, quando il sole comincia a declinare il suo percorso e l’aria estiva è più fresca, affronto la difficoltosa ricerca di un parcheggio, la salita ripida e finalmente guadagno il mio bottino. Finchè un giorno….sparite!. Il proprietario del forno è cambiato e non sa nemmeno di cosa stia parlando. Probabilmente perché glielo chiedo con il mio cattivo francese, approssimativo e fantasioso.
Una grossa x su Villefranche. Quando torno a home, perhaps, I sign for a French course. Strikeout
also Menton, where for a while 'there is no trace of my favorite spells.
At the market of Nice must be lucky. If I'm lucky to find even in the rare version mignon that melts in your mouth and take you to heaven. I still remember the first time: the surprise and amazement.
In the morning the hot market, not far from the sea, receives the breeze. It is crowded as usual and the scratches and betrays too much tourism, year after year, the true nature and standing of this city, a place of fishermen and pirates. As in many other places, in too many cities in the world unfortunately. They call it globalization. But the scents and the colors of the market do not cease their song of seduction, careless of everything you spend like a siren enchantress.
You have to have luck, the market, we know there are the same things every day, not all. Instead
Antibes are always there, front row on the right, coming from the direction of the sea. Orange, vanilla or lemon. They are expensive but you have a taste for taste, right? The market closes early here. At midday sbaraccare all the street sweepers clean and wash the pumps with the stone floor.
Instead of the market and its colors and scents you replace stalls of handicrafts and souvenirs.
But I do it in a hurry, I take my bag and run. The pastry più avanti non ne ha di buone come queste!! Dove finisce la pietra bianca del borgo inizia l’azzurro intenso di un mare che sembra aver divorato ogni altra cosa sulla terra, immenso profuma di salsedine e vento.
C’è un altro segno, sulla carta, tre punti esclamativi tra le brume della Bretagna. Le ho cercate ogni giorno, per settimane, e non pensavo più di trovarle. Ed invece eccole!
La marea la sera si arrampica fino agli scogli, la mattina dopo si ritira lontano, lontano……….lontano vele bianche. Tira vento e fa freddo anche in estate. Tra le dita infreddolite stringo il mio sacchetto di pasticceria e guardo perplessa un sole pallido.

Per farle non mi basta trovare la ricetta ma mi devo procurare anche gli stampini appositi. Si possono usare solo questi stampi e non provate altro o fallireste miseramente. Del resto il nome del dolce si rifà proprio alla loro forma scannellata: cannelés. Cannelés bordelais, si chiamano, perché nascono a Bordeaux.
Dove io non sono mai stata.
Oh, beh.
Comunemente sono chiamate solo cannelés, a volte cannelles e non so se sia semplicemente un errore ortografico; nel sud della Francia scrivono canellou e pronunciano in modo incomprensibile (per me) e questo è dialetto, immagino nel mio francese empirico.

 

                                                        Photos taken from Google FXcuisine.com

Then the molds .... I find in France only in copper molds that would be great if those were not too dear.
Then find and purchase the multiple silicon.
in Verona!
I can swear that it works fine.
Now that I see him die a little there 'everywhere. Of course, as always happens ... .. Jump to understand why: long-standing research and then when something does not find it anywhere you need them most.
Find the recipe, and I find the La Rousse of French pastries. But knowing the ingredients does not do anything, research is all the secrets of the proceedings. What are fundamental.
start your journey.

Ingredients: 12 per
cannelés


½ cups milk 2 eggs 2 egg


120g sugar 50g butter 100g flour


vanilla pod in a cap rum

So necessary to heat the milk with the vanilla, bring to a boil, turn off the heat and leave everything covered for fifteen minutes so that the milk absorbs the scent of vanilla.
Then you must attach the eggs and sugar until the mixture is swollen and blanched then added the melted butter, rum and add the flour. Finally, add the milk and stir well with a whisk. So a batter, nothing that complicated.
The batter, once cold, it should be covered with plastic wrap and must rest, like Sleeping Beauty.

First secret: Place the batter in the fridge and not think about it for at least 12 more hours. I say at least 12 and may be even longer (up to 24) but not less.

According secret: you should only use the special stamp but the level of the batter shall not be lower or higher than half a centimeter from the edge.

Place the mold on the lower floor del forno già caldo, a 200°, per circa 10/15 minuti (io lo metto a anche a 240°…..de fornibus…).

Terzo segreto : dopo dieci, quindici minuti abbassate la temperatura a 180°, passati 40 minuti terminate la cottura, se necessario, a 160°.
In tutto ci vorrano dai 45 minuti ad un’ora, i dolci sono pronti quando sono bruni.

 

Vedrete che i dolcetti crescono moltissimo fino a debordare anche di due centimetri. Ma quando la cottura sarà ultimata e spengerete il forno precipiteranno. Se sono venuti bene devono essere alti esattamente quanto lo stampo, with a dimple in the center.
Wait is chilly and the mold.
The exterior has a slight brown and shiny caramellatura while the interior, from 'large bubbles smooth and thin, is soft and velvety. You almost get the impression of biting into a sort of cream, consistent and scioglievole same time. The crisp exterior contrasts with a delicious creamy hearts. A real magic.
just made, still warm are exquisite.
In any event must be consumed within the day: hour by hour pardon of softness and fragrance.
They are like butterflies beautiful and terribly short-lived.

sometimes very long journey culminating in the revelation of a moment.
The magic is that it leaves behind a trail of mystery and fascination. She came flying on the wing of a breath of wind arose suddenly and quickly moves away.

Note: Cooking times are relative to my oven. I hope that the general description will help you in a perfect performance.

Causes Pain Behind Right Ear

The Arcore's Nights (Le Notti di Arcore)

Am 31 Weeks Pregnant And Am Stooling Is It Normal

Depresh mode

In this last period, punctuated by musate ominous and epic events on the ground, several times I finally decided to send everything to hell, and I mean the comic book and more generally the design. Times are gray, it seems to me to be back the adolescent depressed and drunk so much that I hated. So, putting aside the detrimental playstation, banned after the devastating Tennent's Super, I brandished the Bic pen and I started to draw. Five minutes a day, not more. We will do our hero to fly prepubescent self-destructive syndrome that afflicts him.
the poster will judge.



---------------- Now playing: Iggy Pop - Success
via FoxyTunes

Vertigo After Getting Off The Treadmill

A round of waltzes. Sablè salted nuts and parmesan

dedicated to friend

Teeeempoooooooo ... ... enough, still
Stop.

I need my

Slow Time ... ... ....

I filled the days of huge department stores and closed trucks to load and unload,
I have compiled lists on lists of things to do, things to buy, things to remember and then I ran to remedy all the things I forgot do and forgot to buy and forgot to remember.
I organized and disorganized everything and then cooked, tried again, ricucinato cut, designed, packaged and boxed. Mounted
Ikea cabinets, even.

And now I need time, Slow, and Music.
and understand where I'm going ... ....

here ... ... ... ... .. music .. ... ... ...

Pendant floor to the couch on my new sofa but there are Max, Stephen and Camilla. My pace is still pending and uncertain surprise, for a moment.
Teresa is near the window with his arms crossed and that her look severe when you do not like me.
Catherine keeps time paying attention.
Jade dancing a waltz, alone and mad, the notes scattered mess and master of an area anarchist.
"What are you doing here?"
"Surprise right? Of course, now you've totally forgotten about us as a moldy old stuff! "I apostrophizes Teresa.
They are angry with me. All.
"It 's that .... I ... ...."
"Yes, yes, sure," she curtly, flatly, "Of course, good reasons"

Catherine takes time ... ... the time of that concert that had been under the snow and instead is now here: in my CD player, air and everywhere.
Space widens the spread of the notes. The music fills up the volume and everything like a storm.
you, Catherine, takes the time and I followed up the clarinet remodels and embroider. Become a valuable and magical this time out of time, out of the watches out of every logical and without conventions. Catherine
beats time and we all go back, we can get the beat and the time and all the magic of an infinite thought, inaccurate, shining. That sounds to me.

And now the time is not only slow: it is a waltz that rolls and laughs happy and mad at the command of Jade, his Queen.
in this other world, escaped from the cylinder of a magician distracted, the breath of snow and immense know, things have a completely different name. A name to find out more.
"Have not you lost?" I asked Teresa. I see a dot in the center of the sweetness of his stern look, like when you just pretend it's not like me.
"No" answer "I have found things I did not expect to find it and I found others who did not know existed. I'm just surprised. "
" Are you happy? "Jade asked me screaming, with no stop rolling in his waltz. Max
take my hand and also accompanied me into the mad waltz and I say to Jade on the absolute whirling trumpet;
fastest lap in the embrace of Max, point your feet on the higher notes and let me slip on the deeper . ... .. I am stunned with happiness.
Faster, faster, faster until I can not see anything, only colors.
Dancing in the Ballroom of the world's largest and most enlightened, the knights and ladies are all dressed in beautiful light and diamonds.
The thoughts are still, the questions are like leaves withered and died in December. It is a wet spell wine and music and does not feel right, do not want to wake up.
But it's still a spell and we know that the mystery will be unveiled and revealed. And then hid it again, to preserve the memory of happiness and do not stop wanting to see her again.
Max walks away holding my hand in hers, it makes me a bow and leaves me in the hand of George.
"Welcome back" George tells me and takes me in a lap dance slower and lighter. When I stop Camilla
a fold of my system dress. I, too, wearing diamonds and light, like her.
Teresa opened her fan with a firm and wise gesture "You're very beautiful today." He smiles a smile barely visible but her eyes betray a wider affection, I turn his back and walks away with his rider. As long as the clarinet
gently explains that the party is ending and the last note is posing as a snowflake on a ray of sunshine and evaporates further. The notes fly away
scattering in the sky and the room becomes just my usual room.
Well, with the sofa again, though!

But they are still here.
"Surprise!" Stefano asks me, smiling. In
Indeed, some 'yes.
"Well, boys, is the hour of the aperitif" I say to fool ideas that do not want to deal with now. Entertainment provided
everyone who takes out the martini glasses and who gets to prepare unlikely madly colorful cocktails (guess who).
And I think on the fly to some delicious pretzel.

Appetizer: Parmesan cheese and hazelnut sable

for about 40 cookies

100g butter
170g flour 30g cornflour

A
yolk 50g chopped hazelnuts 50g grated parmesan


1 teaspoon salt Pepper to taste Water


Work the butter until creamy, with whips, and then join the yolk. I do mix well and then I add, always working with whips, salt, pepper, nuts and parmesan. Creamy dough gradually add flour sifted together. The dough should be moist and soft, if necessary add a little cold water.
without working the dough that I make a sausage wrap in plastic wrap and I do sit and harden in the refrigerator.

do not know why I was afraid.
"Not to be popular?" Teresa knows.
is perhaps, not be acceptable if I was not simpler, more lightweight. And do not be understood if I said what I meant really. To be too strana.Di be marginalized if I said stronger words and raw than what is permissible, but those words have remained in the throat, are mine.
"You think you've betrayed yourself?" I asked
Maybe. Perhaps what I thought I only explored a different kind of me. Instead, it is hot air.
Teresa laughs.
"I'm lost."
"No" answered without laughing and believe me.
"There is no life in the real world without compromise," said I, without being entirely convinced.
"You're not capable of compromise," she says
"Maybe I could learn
" Maybe "

sliced \u200b\u200bcookies, bake 15 minutes in the oven to 180 degrees.

Throw cups and glasses, who a martini, Kyr and those who a ... .. a foolish and impractical multicolor cocktails (guess who).

Cheers!!

"I need you" I say
"And we ... we need you" answer in chorus and delay a moment while I give too much in the look of velvet Max