My Autumn tastes like…

almond apple brunch cakes celeriac chanterelle chestnut comfort food duck erwtensoep fennel game guinea fowl Halloween hazelnut jerusalem artichoke lamb lemon orange parsnip passion fruit pear pomegranate pumpkin rabbit scallop soup speculaas squid truffle turkey turnip winkles wild mushrooms

Pumpkin soup for a shopaholic

Not only am I a food addict, I am a shopaholic as well. Yet, it seems that I have more and more trouble to handle the crowds of the cold and rainy winter saturdays, when the city fillls up with people rushing around in all directions to get the best deals of the beginning sale period and the ideal Sinterklaas of Christmas presents a bit like a flooded river.

Do you even think that it will keep me away from shopping… Drop that thought immediately! I want my share of winter shopping too, the bite of the cold, the christmas lights in the streets, and this cute pair of Paul Smith pumps and this fab Red Valentino dress I’ve been drooling around for a couple of months patiently awaiting for the sales. Even if that means I’ll have to drown into the crowd. And most of the times it happens. Suddenly my own futility turns me into an exhausted ball in a flipper game. It’s time to escape the shopping streets just before drowning and take refuge at Lapsang, this cosy and friendly little tearoom in the side streets of the Hague, where a fuming bowl of pumpkin soup awaits me together with fresh Desem bread, creamy butter and a fragrant cup of tea.

Last week, while I was stuck in bed with the flu, shopping was the last of my wishes. Yet, I couldn’t help but dreaming for a marmite of Lapsangs’ pumpkin soup. So, as soon as I gathered enough strength, I improvised my own version of it…

Sexy pears

Whenever I come around the mouthwatering combination of poached pears and silky chocolate sauce, I can’t help but feeling butterflies in my belly. Not surprising, you would think, for a gourmande like me.

Well, not this kind of butterflies I must admit (blushing)… Couldn’t really explain why though until I stumbled upon that vintage french advertisement from the eighties for a world famous chocolate brand, and then I remembered: the very first awakening of my sensuality taste buds…

Ok, maybe that’s a bit cheesy… but, well, I was still very young and naive back in the eighties. And honestly, will the poached pears/chocolate sauce combi ever taste the same way to you after this? Let’s make a test…

Fighting for the last bone…

If I tell you that the scene below was immortalised one couple of Sundays ago at my dinner table, you might wonder what on earth I serve my guests for dinner for them to fight over the last bone with such rage.

Well I did too, because in less time I needed to have a bite myself that’s about all that was left of the generous pieces of full flavoured autumn lamb that won me over in the display of my beloved butcher…
Not less that one whole boned shoulder and four shanks that had been patiently simmering on my stove through the afternoon until falling of the bone, slowly but surely caramelised with the toffee like dates and delicately topped with shiny, deep pink drops of a ripe pomegranate.

Now if I tell you we were only four and there was enough for an army, this might convince you that there is something almost magic about the tajine like recipe I’m about to share with you. If not, take a look further down this post for a quick glimpse of what it looked like before landing on my dinner table or even better, check out the link to the original ‘grimoire’ from which I stole this mouth-watering spell, my favourite foodies magazine, the french ELLE a Table.

Not a cat person…

I thought I was.

You only get to know the truth about you being a catperson when you’ve gave a try at catsitting… and the truth is: I’m not!

Ok, It was a brave try: three cats at once that have just moved to a new three storey house and are not familiar with their new neighbourhood… So far so good for the cuddling. At least, I’ve done some exercise: playing hide and seek through the house and garden, running after them up and down the three flights of stairs a dozen time, crawling on the floor trying to get them out from under the sofa/bed and back into their dedicated room on the top floor… and finally falling asleep exhausted on the sofa at midnight while desperatly hoping that the damned adventurous one will finally deign coming back from his moonlight exploration of the neighbourhood rooftops and gardens so that I can finally go back to my own house and dive in my bed where my dutchie has long fallen into the arms of morpheus…

My friends are not due back before monday evening but luckily, this morning, there’s Louisa Carter, her fluffy comforting pancakes, and juicy blueberries to help me gather a little energy and comfort for my afternoon catsitting session!