Food is obviously something that occupies a large portion of my thinking. With the exception of food I actually make, I've found that I don't usually take photos of the food I'm about to eat, but rather photos of me eating, LPR eating, or photos of us before or after eating. Some are quick moments in my life, some have strong emotions attached. These are my stories. (cue Law & Order "dum dum")
These are the very first fancy shmancy decorated cupcakes I made, and I did them for LPR's bday a few years back. This was before I got all mature and hoity toity and was still using boxed cake and frosting.
I went through a brightly colored sugar cookie phase (mainly while I was on leave from my job to finally finish my thesis for my Masters Degree):
Also, while on my leave, my sister and I planned a surprise "120th" birthday party for my parents. (they turned 60 within a month of each other.) It was a lovely event, with otherwise forgetful food....with the exception of the cakes we got from Flying Monkey Patisserie in Philadelphia. We ordered a pound cake with lemon frosting for my dad, and a chocolate cake with raspberry frosting for my mom. It's worth mentioning that what you see below represents half of what we ordered. And that there was also dessert served at the party. We had so much cake leftover that we were giving it to anyone who would take it. Which wasn't too difficult because it was sofreakingdelicious. I loved this party, because my parents were so happy to have family and friends together. Plus my mom didn't have to cook.
the delicious cakes.
This was my first foray into fancy baking, made for LPR's bday last year:
It was this fantastic chocolate, salted caramel layer cake with almonds that took about 47 hours to make and coated our itty bitty kitchen in chocolate. And then of course, I realized that there were only 2 of us to eat it, so we ended up bringing slices of it to LPR's parents and sister when we went out for a birthday dinner. Delicious, nonetheless.
I am noticing a theme of too much cake/too few people. Moving on....
In November, 2008 we attended a wedding in Edinburgh, so we decided to jump over to Dublin for a night and Paris for 2 nights. You know, cause of my love of all things French. We were there for Thanksgiving, and it so happened that on the Champs Elysees, everything was decorated for Christmas, and there was a sort of street fair going on.
In Paris on our first night, drinking a whiskey/coffee deliciousness: (the name I have forgotten) and eating a baguette with butter, ham and cheese. I could eat these every day of my life. True story.
This is where I interrupt the story to tell you about the photos I forgot to take. On Thanksgiving day, LPR and I hopped a train to Versailles to have lunch at Gordon Ramsey's La Veranda at the Trianon Palace. It was an amazing experience. They let me speak my crappy french and didn't sneer at us while we struggled with words. When I asked where the bathroom was (and even understood the response!), they still walked me halfway there. Just so, so nice. And the food. LPR had oysters (after we had to ask what the word "huitre" was) and I believe they were the best he's had. Also, I can't remember what else we ate. But it was delicious. And just a wonderful experience. (and yes I see the irony in not remembering what we ate and still talking about the meal. It doesn't matter because the memory of the whole is more important than the specifics. Or something like that)
That night, we went to Montmartre to see Sacre Coeur. We also had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner of ham & cheese omelets, bread, and wine. This is LPR looking French and pensive. This happens to be a very strong, happy memory that fills me with an intense sense of....sentimentality? Not sure what it is, but it makes me want to go right back to that spot.
Fast forward to our life in LA....
T
his will probably get its own review one day, but I wanted to put this here anywhere. LPR and I discovered a fantastic restaurant within walking distance of our apartment. This is the bill from our first visit. Despite the Devil's tax, we continue to return. 
And yes, it hurt like a bitch.
No comments:
Post a Comment