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.
 
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.
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