So I’ve kind of gotten to the point where I have so much that I could share, that I don’t know what to share first.
Which leads to me not sharing anything.
Which leads to me realizing that I don’t have enough blogging capacity to share everything that pops into my ever-moving-squirrel(now french squirrel)-brain.
Which leads to me trying to prioritize my sharing.
Which necessitates more thinking.
Which necessitates more procrastinating.
Meanwhile here I am.
Eating Chocolate. And bread. And cheese. And (drinking) wine. And having amusing eccentric little thoughts.
And nobody is hearing about it. That stresses me out.
At least stressed turned around is desserts, and I’m sure as heck not short on desserts. It was Valentine’s Day for crêpes sake. (Ha. ha. see what I did there.)
Let me tell you about Valentine’s Day in Paris. Actually you can probably figure it out your dang self. Just sit there and think about the most fabulously romantical, Valentines-y city possible that, if you could be, you would SO be visiting on February 14th with your significant other.
Me Helping You: Paris. Hi.
It is so true. No one could make up the amount of love diffused through the air in the cafés, parcs, boulangeries and even through the most pee-smelling of metro stations. Guys, there was no escape.
I wake up to find a romantic poem waiting for my roommate, walk down the hall and bump into a man delivering a dozen roses to a friend of mine, snatch my vélib and head to the galleries lafayette to peruse the gourmet food section. Naturally, it’s Hell-a Heart-tastic too.
To be honest, I’m not too much of a rebel. I can’t fight the hearts and the romance. Even if there’s no one waiting for me with a love-filled home-made dinner and a freaking cuddle (I would never ask this of you dear roommate).
I embraced the love. Just me… and Paris.
I couldn’t stop myself from buying a delicious coeur de neufchâtel. I totally cut my betteraves into romantic shapes for my own lunch. I stuck my face against every chocolaterie window. And occasionally I came out with something super. And I even forced myself to not express disgust when I saw couples eating eachother’s faces at the corner brasserie. Or on the metro. You have no idea how many times I faced this one.
Then, Valentine’s Day was over. But it still felt like Valentine’s Day. By now, I’m pretty sure it’s just Paris.
Paris is like some wildly sappy twist on the classic Bill Murray film “Groundhog Day“. But sappy in a way that you learn to love to live with.
Perpetual romance. Woah.
So the next day, I had red wine and a delicious cheese fondue with some new Swiss friends. The next evening I shared a(n other) bottle of wine, a home cooked meal, and some excellent conversation with a new German friend. The next morning I made decadent chocolate pancakes and went for my usual run around the fountains at the Jardin Luxembourg. Seule. Since then, I’ve gone ice skating at the hôtel de ville, followed by amorino gelato, wine-hopped through le Marais, shared cheeses, bread and snickerdoodles with a lovely international group of amies, shared variations of bitter dark chocolat chaud and chantilly at a viennese pastry shop, and pondered colours, brushstrokes, and insanity at the centre pompidou. (I also learned how to make macarons at a pastry school, but I will for real tell you about that in another post)
Romance is not just for two, and it’s certainly not just for a special occasion.
At least not here. I’m adjusting. These helped.
Yes I greased the pan with artisan french butter. duh.
Romantic Chocolate Pancakes. For One.
adaptedish from The First Mess
a word to the wise.. I have little to no means of measuring things.. and haven’t jumped fully into kitchen scale-ing… so these are all “ish” measurements
- 1/2 ish cup milk (105g)
- 1 teaspoon (or smallish spoon) vinegar (I used balsamic)
- 1/2 ish cup white spelt flour (55g)
- 1 tsp baking powder
- 3 tablespoons (large-ish spoon in my case) cocoa powder (make it fair trade babe)
- pinch of salt
- 3 tablespoons sweetener (I used molasses, tis all I had)
- nubbin of a banana.. the size is photographed
- a few drops of vanilla extract
- butter for pan-greasing
Mix the almond milk and vinegar together in a small dish, or random residence cup, and let it set to become buttermilky.
Mix the dry ingredients (up to salt) together in a medium bowl.
Mash the banana in another bowl, and thoroughly combine with milk mixture and vanilla. Add wet to dry and mix until just combined, and pancake it up on a lowish-medium heat frying pan!
Cover your pancakes with romance. Or peanut butter and bananas.
p.s. I just bought a kilogram of the finest Valrhona chocolate available from G.Detou near Les Halles. Throw me rope. A life boat. A glass of water. A freaking bag of spinach. Throw me anything. Just not chocolate.