Lait du poule

A lot of chicken milk goes into a litre of lait du poule, says Pinotte.

Choko-vodka update

The chocolate vodka experiment is now over. My frozen laboratory (ie, the freezer) sports a bottle of cold, seriously robust booze. After three weeks of marinading, most of the chocolate has been dissolved and incorporated by the vodka, and there is just a bit of chocolatey drudge near the murky bottom.



This "witch's brew" is thick and milky, and not a substance to take lightly. Do not turn your back on it. Do not let popular images of milk chocolate blind you into assuming this is a silly, just-a-taste-before-operating-heavy-machinery kind of beverage. It will have its way with you if you do not take care. I recently sampled a portion and then text-bombed D in a most irritating fashion. The danger lies in the sweet flavour which overpowers the taste of the booze, a tip I should have remembered from my, ahem, experiments with vodka coolers in university. Blend this vodka beast into a tall glass of milk and say your prayers.

Any other day

She woke up to a low rumble. The walls shook. She didn't recognize the sound right away, and then her mind turned to last night's storm. Snowplow? The rumbling got closer, then faded away like a bear into the forest. She lay doll-still under layers of blankets, listening to the neighbor's alarm clock followed by sounds of shuffling on the thin floor above. Behind the bedroom door the hungry meows of two cats pierced the silence. Her eyelids felt weighted. It couldn't be later than 6 AM. It was as dark as night in her room but she could see a thin, pale crack of light peeking out above the curtain. She stirred, shifting the blankets, feeling a shock of cold air against her warm neck. It's morning, she thought, and he's not here. Same as yesterday. Same as any other day.

// Crepes with chocolate, banana and strawberries //

The gambler

Awesome run today. I ran alone for a while, and then out of nowhere I bumped into the Gaz who was running with her auburn-colored dog, and together we pounded back the miles. For about an hour we kept it light, here and there Gaz politely reminding the dog to slow down for the humans. He did. Time flew like the snowflakes. I ran 21k; all systems solid. I registered for Nashville when I got home. Screw indecision.

I read that Kenny Rogers is going to croon for the runners at some point during the race!

:: Ginger coconut rice with chick pea & broccoli curry ::

Winter oven

I bury you
for the thrill
of digging you up

~ Apple & cranberry crisp w/
Cookie Dough Dynamo ice cream ~

Forbidden fruit

I brought a pomegranate home. I couldn't remember what it tasted like.

Using a knife, I cut the hard shell into pieces and sucked out the plump, sweet seeds. It reminded me of eating lobster, but even messier.

Like a gruesome scene from Dexter, the cut fruit lies in a pool of its own...juice.

I totally gorged out on this treat. Only the carcass and my stained cutting board remain.

Étudiante

Rocked by a feeling (fresh-off-the-boat)
she clings to the side
blue eyes closed to inhale the
heavy air in this ancient port
strange smells and noises
weaving into the night
for reasons tingling and exotic

Here, there
at cafés on busy streets
wine and words flow
like electric currents
joining together
puzzle pieces of a place
She jumps in with a smile
as wide as the Red Sea
Je voudrais des escargots, s’il vous plait
trying on the foreign
playing with playing
la femme fatale or maybe
the sensitive come-from-away

Until a fisherman with almond eyes
shines the light of history
worn smooth and beige as an oyster’s pearl:
We don’t speak French here anymore
just a few words with the tourists

Tres drôle, she muses
plucking snails from their shells with a fork
how did she get here?
is the fog to blame
or did she shipwreck herself
in the roar of the conch
clutched too closely to her ear