au revoir

It is hard to pen the words - tonight I am leaving.

my heart brims full with memories of here;
the embrace of my lover in our first house alone (together)
the sight of my son fresh born,
the sound of sweet bird song
the stumble over french verb and phrase,
the hard work and the soft pause
the midnight pacing in the garden
and hundred walks around the block,
the quiet months and the dark days,
summer dusk and autumn morn -

 I want to cry and sing and murmur all at once, thank you, thank you... I am turbulent with anticipation - tonight an an eight-hour flight, tomorrow in a very very hot india, and beyond - in my homeland - rest, respite, reunion...

I am sad. I am joyful. I am weary. jittery. hopeful. yes, so very hopeful.

I rest where I must and can only truly rest,
I rest in Him.

au revoir mes amis et bonsoir,
xx

baguette magique

in french that translates to magic wand... we were enlightened of this fact when we went to see the final instalment of the harry potter films (in french) all those years ago - oh, really its hard not to giggle... and  ever since then I've wanted to have a sword fight with baguettes. This mother's day my wish came true. We picked up three splendid varieties from the marche - normal, campagne (with a little rye) and tradition (with sourdough) - we tried our best moves and Reu decided he would rather eat his... afterwards we had a picnic in the sunshine with other market buys; plump blueberries, crisp lettuce and grated carrot salad, mushroom tart, rabbit terrine, cheeses, butter and glorious fresh baguette! happiest of mother's days indeed ♥

p.s. that last photo is of Reu with the brebis (a creamy mild sheep's cheese) - oh my, we have raised a little frenchman after all!

mother's day

above, 1989 / below, sometime lately

one thing I know,
that's etched in my heart
on the long days
and dark nights -

my babe sleeps
sound with the scent
of mama close.

and that I
feel so at peace,
so utterly known
and loved
when my mum
is close to me.

glow

a feeling I can't readily describe, a glow perhaps, these last days, five full...

I move in bursts of energy, humming over to-do-lists - letters written, packages sealed, boxes addressed (by little hands and big),

the rooms are in a slow-state of undress and yet I still need fresh flowers on shelves, lilacs from the garden and periwinkles, violets, buttercups from the overgrown patches of grass...

one day is warm as anything and the babe splashes in his makeshift pool, I walk barefoot, stopping for the drench of sunlight against the wall,

next day is cool and wet and grey, I think about the unapologetic blueness of the sky where I am from, soon I tell my heart, soon...

nights we earnestly plan to get into bed early, and yet retire too late, too full of thought,

and freshly buttered bread becomes a late afternoon pick-me-up

how quickly we reach the end of chapters (where half-way we felt ourselves dragging, and now can barely slow enough - to savour and collect)

I could race ahead, rushing, spinning - but I am determined to pause. I am here now, its 9pm, still light and the birds are softly singing... 

for the love of brioche

 

this morning for a belated birthday present I went into town to take a 4-hour masterclass in making brioches and kouglofs at Lenôtre's cuisine school. It felt rather special (and a little scary) walking along the champs elysee lined with flowering trees and flags flapping from lamp posts knowing I was about to learn in french how to make some traditional bread.

brioche, that pillowy egg and butter rich bread, has long been one of favourite things to smell/eat/toast/ (actually I remember buying loaves of it as a child with my pocket money!) - so to learn the secrets of how to prepare it was terribly lovely. we were also taught how to make kouglof which is a sweet raisin bread from alsace. I was joined by three other home cooks; two parisians and a brazilian tourist. our chef was friendly, thorough and absolutely precise with each measurement.

we learned how to make the doughs, roll perfect little balls of brioche, shape kouglofs and make a special syrup for them. we tasted our efforts warm and steaming from the oven... I have to say, some of the best brioche I've ever had - so soft and just the right ratio of sweet to savoury. I am sure that's due to the special Lenôntre recipe, best quality french butter and the strict adherence to precise temperatures and times!

so I've arrived home with my freshly baked goods - little brioches with sugar grains and a simple egg wash, as well as my very own shaped loaf (my favourite style), plenty of almondy-orange blossom drenched kouglofs and a generous ball of dough of each. I am thinking of making another loaf of brioche with it and a batch of cinnamon-apple-raision scrolls with the kouglof (since I don't have the special moulds)... and I foresee the stale brioche (if it lasts that long) becoming french toast for breakfast and pudding with fresh berries for desert later in the week!

there is something so satisfying about watching your wee one try something you love for the first time, knowing you made it too. he seemed rather pleased with it, after all, his hair resembles a rather well-baked loaf of brioche top these days! oui, c'est formidable!

xx

jardin du luxembourg

today was one of the loveliest saturdays I've ever had... sweet friends over for breakfast/furniture moving/gardening/sourdough pizza making for lunch, then off together for an afternoon adventure into town - to the jardin du luxembourg for a sunny stroll and a visit to the museé to see the exhibition of one of very very favourite artists, marc chagall... I love how the jardin is so clearly bursting with both tourtists and local parisans - all delighting in the spring warmth... we chatted as we walked, watching men play serious games of chess, and more light-hearted rounds of boules, we nursed under the swaying chesnut trees, saw children set off sailing boats, listened to a live orchestra, reuben licked his first mango sorbet and decided he liked it very much, and were mesmerised at the brilliance of the tulips. I am convinced I have never seen tulips so big, or as bright, as I have this season in Paris... 

Oh how golden to be with one's kin and kindred friends, lap up sunshine, and see a little more of this olden city while we can...