#crispy sourdough toast done a little more than i usually like (i like my toast so anemic) in order to withstand the ricotta | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chelleztjs18 · 1 year

Note

Hello you mrs. doesn't eat the bread crust lefty eyebag. That was pretty good! You're catching on to nickname giving 😅

Sounds like a good day to me except for the allergy part. Sorry you kept sneezing, I hate that. I bet you look like Rudolph the red nose reindeer with all the blowing and runny nose hahaha.

Today was okay, just same crap different day 🙃

I'm the same way with toast. I don't like it too toasty. If it's too toasted, the little crumbs go everywhere and it's messy. I remember you said you eat Nutella. Do you eat it with toasted bread or no? And do you make it into a sandwich?

Ooh I know what you mean with the crispy edges of the egg. That's how I like it too! And the tuna sandwich, do you do anything special with the mix or just tuna and mayo and spices?

It's the crust part but like, the corner part of the sandwich when you're almost done lol 😆

What kind of bread do you like for sandwiches?

Ah wow gross. Hahahahaha I love squid, but to think of them live and squirming.. yuck. That's a lot to remember when fishing. How did you learn all this?

Also, you don't clean your own fish?

Man, all this talk about fish and sushi is making me hungry.

I have a lot of favorite lyrics too. It's hard to pick just one haha 😅

Have you ever seen a shooting star before?

- CuriousGeorge

helloo.. hahaha u keep coming up with the good nickname for me too.hahaha.

yeah it was a good day, n im used to with my alllergies. so it's kinda a usual thing for me. n no, my nose isnt red thankfully. lol. but i sneeze n keep blowing my nose today.

aw im sorry u had a crappy day. I hope u feel better now. u can talk about it with me if u want :)

wht u doin now?

yes i think the same with too toasty toast, messy plus it's too hard n i dont like it. i like it soft but just a bit of crunchy. i looooove nutella. yes i eat it with bread like sandwich but not toasted. i like it with soft bread. also there is one of the things from the Dutch that Indonesians adapt. we have this chocolate sprinkles but taste better than chocolate sprinkles here. it's more chocolaty n less sweet. so we spread butter to the bread and the chocolate sprinkles on it n make it a sandwich. it's so good. i think the sprinkles name Hageslag or something. I have a dutch friend n she confirmed that the dutch still eat that sandwich until now, so do indonesians. :D n i have some so i still eat it here too.

yesss the crispy egg and runny in the middle is so good. especially if u eat it with thai food. or just simply rice. when i was a kid, my mom always make my egg like that and then put a little butter on our warm rice n mix it. then put the egg n drizzle some dark sweet soy sauce. omg it's so good. sometimes she puts sesame oil too.

for tuna sandwich, i like to add sweet relish in the mix. then grill it like making a grilled cheese sandwich. for egg salad sandwich, i like to add sliced black olives in it. sooo good. u should try it.

for sandwich i like regular white bread or rye bread or sweet rolls or sourdough. i dont mind wheat bread. my favorite bread r pita bread, flat bread, naan bread, sourdough. what about u?

Haha yeah it's gross.usually my husband will be the one put the bait n cast it then give it to me 😅 because it's hard for me to do it. N in a boat with bunch of other people,u gotta be fast otherwise the fish will bite their bait. Haha.

My husband teaches me how to fish n i practice it by doing it.

Oh no, i dont clean fish.i always thought that cleaning fish is soooo gross since i was a kid. I watched how my mom clean n scrap off the scales n it got all over the sink n somtimes around it n i remember it's hard to take it off my skin if it stick to me, n it looks slimy n weird silver color plus the smell plus the fish look ugly, so no. Hahaha. I rarely cook fish in my place now. I dont mind cook shrimp but not fish. I dont even eat fish off the bones let alone have a whole fish with the head n tail n all that. I only eat tuna fillet or white fish clean fillet. I dont eat fresh water fish because i think it taste muddy.lol. but i eat sushi.lol.

I have a bad experience eating fish off the bones. One time i ate some n there was 1 bone thats like a toothpick size n i didnt know it. N whn i bite it, the bone stab into my teeth n the bone broke n stuck in it. I couldnt shut my mouth because it hurts. I forgot if i went to dentist or not, i was still a kid but i remember i was told that the only way is just let the bone broke by itself n let our saliva desolve it. N after few days it was gone. Since then i never eat fish off the bone anymore.

Haha i know right. It's really hard to pick favorite lyric.haha.

No i dont think i hv seen a shooting star. Have u?

Next questions?

Cheerio!

#chellez answers #ask answered #anon answered #curious george anon

0 notes

clamjumper5-blog · 5 years

Text

A Healthy Hedonist’s Guide to Paris: Gluten-Free Eats + Sights in the City of Love

Paris has been a gluten-free beacon of love and carbs for us over the last two years.

I’m usually not that into Hallmark holidays, but last year, for whatever reason, when Charlie told me he’d be traveling on Valentine’s Day, I got a little diva-like pit in my stomach.

I pictured myself sitting alone watching Sandra Bullock reruns with a 3-course meal of matcha truffles, modestly-priced steak, and salted caramel pudding. Then I immediately moved on to a superior alternative that made me a lot less sad: having dinner with my OG Valentine, my dad.

I don’t know why I cared so much about doing something special last year, when on most other Valentine’s Days my preference is to avoid prefix menus like the plague and do nothing at all. But I’m sure it had something to do with all the book-related work that left me craving an evening of being coddled and pampered. Other sugar daddy to the rescue!

The biggest reason I can’t give Charlie a hard time is because for my birthday this year, he already showered me with the most romantic gift a girl could ask for: a long weekend trip to Paris. Had he pulled that super Romeo move on me on February 14th, I probably would have rolled my eyes and barfed a little in my mouth (diva!). But in November it was the perfect gift. And come December, when we finally woke up on the tarmac of Charles de Gaulle airport, it was the beginning of the most make-out and food-filled trip I’ve taken in adult life.

(see?)

Paris is the city of love, yes. But for me it’s always held memories of a different type of romance. Back when I was three years old, my OG Valentine (along with my mom) moved our small nuclear family across the Atlantic for a few years. We lived a stone’s throw from Les Invalides on the Right Bank, which I used to call the Emerald City because of its gold dome and sprawling Oz-like greenery.

So my favorite moments of our trip were not the pounds of steak frites or kisses shared under the Eiffel Tower, it was getting to share all those childhood fragments with Charlie as we covered the city on foot from end to end, having him humor me as we played the game my mother and I always used to play of guessing what color the seats would be at the following metro stop, and humoring me even further when I wanted to take us another mile out of the way to relive what a chocolate eclair tasted like in gluten-free form.

Speaking of being gluten-free in Paris, it’s a lot easier than it used to be. I’ve included some of the recommendations below, but just know that like in the States, not every loaf of GF bread is created equal. Take a detour to Chambelland early in your trip and buy a loaf and carry it in your purse for the rest of your stay. I tried the ones at Eric Kayser, No Glu and Helmet Newcake and they weren’t as good. This is key, because you’re going to need something to soak up all that restaurant butter.

If that’s recommendation 1.a. for the GF folks. 1.b. for the rest of you is to balance your trip with a mix of old and new. You’ll see in the itinerary I laid out below that I didn’t give you a back-to-back bistro highlight reel. There’s some incredibly inventive cuisine happening in Paris right now that is worth taking a break from cassoulet and soupe l’oignon for. Plus, if you eat on the healthier end at home, you will burn out from this particular French brand of hedonism very quickly. Pace yourself, folks.

My last recommendation is to walk as much as you can. It’s truly the best way to see the city. We managed to log 10 miles a day! Pack your shoes accordingly, and bring a second pair, since you will inevitably get blistered from your first. We loved the little AirBNB we stayed in on the 5th floor of a immeuble in the 9th, even if it meant many more blisters walking up all those stairs!

This time around, it was definitely a sobering experience for us bourgeois lovers of Parisian oat milk to experience the Gilet Jaunes lighting the city on fire literally and figuratively with their anger. You can see some of the scenes below, juxtaposed of course with my favorite 3 euro macarons. Needless to say, I couldn’t feel more grateful for the life I was born into that allows me to see the world, and savor every morsel.

Just being able to reminisce about this trip feels like a gift. And let me just say for all my Galentine’s: you don’t need a date to have the most glorious time in Paris. My last two trips 7 years ago and in college were both solo, and I had an equally magical weekend reading, wandering and day drinking in cafes.

Read on for my favorite gluten-free finds and ways to spend a long weekend in the city of luuuuurve.

From one healthy, Francophile hedonist, to another,

Xoxo Phoebe

THE BEST PARIS FOOD DESTINATIONS (& WHAT TO EAT IF YOU’RE GLUTEN-FREE)

Afternoon

*Breizh Cafe, The Marais.

This was our first food stop in Paris, after fighting our jetlag to make it through two floors of the Pompidou Center on an empty stomach. Needless to say, I was extremely hangry by the time we arrived at this little gem in the Marais, and almost had a meltdown when we were told there was no table available. Luckily, the maître d’ took pity on us silly Americans and found us two seats next door at the small to-go shop. We actually got the better experience, I think. As we waited for our gluten-free buckwheat crepes to arrive, we sipped a carafe of their in-house hard cider and drooled over all the delicate tins of sardines, cases of smoked meats, rich butters and countless products made from the restaurant’s signature buckwheat. Just make sure to read the back of the packages, as many of the pastas and crisps also include wheat flour. As for my order, I went with the special, which included cured duck, mushrooms and comte. But you can’t go wrong with the complet.

L’As du Falafel, The Marais.

Back when I could eat gluten, this was a very necessary stop when visiting the old Jewish quarter of the Marais. The streets are worth visiting anyway, as the trendy boutiques suddenly tapper off into a jam-packed block of Judaica. The falafel is the best in the city, but they also have schwarma for the GF folk.

Miznon, The Marais

Down the street from all the falafel shops in the Jewish corner, is this Israeli outpost with creative spins on classic sandwiches. The lamb pita is excellent, but they will also do any of their sandwiches as a plate for the GF folk. I got the beef bourgingnon, which is not something I would think to try at an Israeli restaurant, but their take on it was incredibly light and flavorful, especially with a dousing of green sauce on top. The highlight for healthy-minded folks is the whole charred cauliflower, which emerges still attached to its leaves and roots. New Yorkers: you can also find a stand in Chelsea Market, but it’s not the same as the original.

Chambelland, 10th.

This gluten-free bakery was the only place I found that did French bread the right way. It had the same crispy exterior and tangy sourdough flavor that characterizes the best of the table baskets. Get a loaf to-go, or simply enjoy a tuna sandwich or square of focaccia (tomato-olive is amazing) as a mid-afternoon snack. Also, get a bag of the mini financiers.

Helmut Newcake, 1st.

In addition to being the best-named patisserie in all the land, Helmut Newcake has the type of highfalutin pastries that make you think you’re staring at a jewelry case—and they’re all gluten-free! It was such a treat to get to have a chocolate eclair after all these years. The chocolate chip cookie is also insanely buttery and decadent.

Claus, 1st.

Breakfast isn’t as much of a “thing” in France as it is in the states. Usually, people just grab a croissant and cafe on the go. One morning when we were craving eggs, we ended up at this cute spot near our hotel. Honestly, the breakfast was pretty underwhelming. But it’s worth a visit for the gluten-free green tea financiers, which were the most delicious treat of the trip. Had we done it over, I would have saved my breakfast for when we visited Canal St. Martin (see below).

Holybelly, Canal St. Martin.

We didn’t manage to squeeze in some eggs or black rice porridge from Holybelly, but walked around the cool and quaint surrounding area of Canal St. Martin, where there are a bunch of up-and-coming juice bars (Bob’s) and gluten-free cafes (Ten Belles) popping up. This is definitely the neighborhood to go to if you want a break from butter. And I loved capturing the heart-shaped lock picture above.

Hotel L’Amour, 10th.

This hotel restaurant has a quaint fashionable interior with a beautiful garden to sit outside in warmer months. It’s an excellent spot for brunch, with a whole array of vegetarian options. The vegan butternut squash soup was delicious, as was the poulet roti and plate of scrambled eggs.

Ellsworth, 1st.

This brunch spot has all the usual Southern fixtures—French toast, fried chicken, duck hash—but they’re prepared in a distinctly French way. The hash was a gluten-free favorite of mine, and I also loved the beet salad with homemade light-as-air Greek yogurt.

Au Petit Tonneau, 7th.

We wandered into this little neighborhood gem during our day of exploring the right bank, as we made our way from Musee D’Orsay to go make-out under the Eiffel tower. It was everything we wanted in a bistrot: small tables, chalkboard menus, old ladies ordering whole bottles of wine at 2pm, and husband and wife waiters, who took breaks in between busing our tables to enjoy a bite of lunch with their family at the back table. The most notable dish here is the veal stew, which is served over cardamom scented rice. Unfortunately, it’s thickened with flour (hey-ho France), but I snuck a small taste of the sauce and it was mind-blowing. Equally good (and gluten-free): the escargot, salad Paysenne with thick lardons, and the sautéed scallops.

Le Comptoir de la Mer, 6th

The two small bars next to one another, one dedicated to seafood, the other to meats, are a fun concept based on basque-style pintxos, where you order small plate after small plate, standing up, before heading to the next joint and doing the same. I love that they serve butter in a giant ball on the counter that you can scrape off to your heart’s content.

Pierre Herme, 6th

Perhaps the most famous macaron purveyor in Paris, Pierre lives up to all the hype. The cookies are light and tender, while the filling isn’t too sweet. More importantly, they offer a variety of surprising and creative combinations. My favorite was the half raspberry, half pistachio, and the pomegranate and cream.

NoGlu, 6th

As I mentioned above, I was not overly blown away by the bread at this gluten-free cafe. Still, it’s a nice place to grab a sandwich, and if you’re craving a croque monsieur, theirs certainly hits the spot. I’ve also heard good things about their quiche and madeleine’s, but generally prefer chambelland and helmet newcake for GF goodies.

Evening

Le Grand Bain, 9th

The menu changes daily at this veg-centric small plates joint. The chef is young and inventive, but also can turn out French classics like moules with aioli that rival the best bistros in town. They were willing to adapt almost the whole menu to be gluten-free and also had plenty of vegan options. Besides the moules, my favorite dish was the broccoletti with caviar. Charlie could not resist the fois gras stuffed quail.

Balagan, 1st

We went for lunch at this upscale Israeli restaurant near The Louvre, but it’s chic design and cool lounge in back would make it even better as a nighttime destination. The kale salad with turmeric aioli and Mediterranean take on steak frites (both GF!) were fabulous. The waitstaff was also very knowledgable about my allergy.

Le Villaret, 10th

Right down the street from Chambelland, is this classic bistrot that serves up impeccably cooked steak and other French fare. It’s been renovated to be slightly more modern on the interior, but still feels homey and cozy. It’s a great option for a casual, yet refined meal that’s unfussy and worth the price tag.

Bistrot Paul Bert, 11th.

Though a bigger operation than Tonneau, it doesn’t get more classic than this French institution. It’s a little off the beaten path, but worth a visit for a traditional meal of all the things you came to France for: sole meuniere, steak frites and soufflés. Gluten-free folk are good to go on the steak and fries and simple butter-soaked scallops in their shell, but sadly have to sit out dessert. My favorite part of our meal is that they decanted our wine into a giant wine glass, which made for some wonderful photo opps. I’m pretty sure they stuck us in the front room with all the other English speakers for this very reason.

Le Clown Bar, 10th.

This was both Charlie and my favorite meal in Paris. I was skeptical at first, as I’m not one to opt for trends or novelty over the classics (in Paris, no less). But this meal was truly the most inventive and delicious one I’ve had in any city in recent memory. Much to my surprise, the highlight of the night—in addition to the whole pigeon that arrived talons-on, and still smoking on a plate—was the bowl of brains. As you can see above, they did very little to distract or disguise the main ingredient, which I suppose is what good French cooking is all about. The texture was similar to tofu, and combined with a delicate dashi broth, each spoonful melted in your mouth. It’s best to get a reservation in advance, but there’s a great little hipster cocktail bar around the corner called Bespoke if you have to wait.

Le Relais de Entrecote, 6th

An institution with locations in New York and London, this steak and frites chain never disappoints. And somehow, there’s nothing like the real thing in Paris. It’s also a perfect venue for celiacs, since the famous secret sauce is gluten-free and there’s nothing else on the menu but salad, steak and fries, so the fryer is also fair game. Save room for dessert, as their sundaes are legendary!

Le Servan, 12th.

I loved the neighborhood vibe of this place, which made me feel like we were back in Brooklyn. The food was simple, elegant and if I’m being honest, slightly underwhelming. We ended up here because of this Eater list, which said that the clams were one of the best dishes in Paris. Unfortunately, said clams had soy sauce in them (wah wah). Add it to your list if you want to check out a new neighborhood that’s more residential and bohemian. The one dish that really stood out and was worth returning for was the scallop with butterscotch. The menu changes daily, though, so perhaps we just ordered wrong.

Cocktail Hour

Le Mary Celeste, The Marais

If you’re looking for a great spot to grab oysters or deviled eggs before or after dinner, this divey spot in the Marais is it. Compared to most cocktail bars in Paris, this one is a nice mix of tourists and locals.

Le Syndicat, 9th

Another small cocktail bar with creative drinks, including one with kombucha and cucumber that I enjoyed.

The Hemingway Bar, 1st

If you like 30 euro cocktails in a lavish setting, nothing gets more classic than this hideaway in the back of The Ritz. Go early and put your name down. Be prepared to take out a second mortgage to cover your martini.

Le Meurice, 1st

Slightly easier to get into than Hemingway, and equally expensive drinks in ornate surroundings. Charlie swears by a lunch time burger here as well.

ITINERARY: AN IDEAL LONG WEEKEND IN PARIS

If you have an extra day, the Louvre is an obvious must. It’s so ginormous though that we chose to cross many of the smaller museums off our list and spend more time walking between neighborhoods. Another favorite that we didn’t fit into this itinerary is Sacre Coeur, which has an unparalleled view of the city at sunset and is a fun neighborhood to grab a pre-dinner glass of wine. Definitely go if you have one more night. Also, it should be noted that we went to Paris in December. If it’s warm out, a meat and cheese picnic in the Tuileries or Jardin du Luxembourg is also a must. But the gardens around the Louis Vuitton Foundation are also beautiful for a picnic or romp.

Friday, the Marais + Left Bank >>Start the day at the Pompidou center and explore the contemporary and modern collections >>Spend the afternoon exploring the Marais neighborhood; stop into Merci for home goods and decor, and wander the shops and boutiques. >>Have an early lunch of gluten-free buckwheat crepes at Breizh, along wtih a cup of one of their hard ciders (you’re in Europe, after all!). >> Pop into Musee National Picasso >> Grab a mid-afternoon snack at L’As du Fallafel or Miznon >> GF folks should make a detour to the 10th to grab a midafternoon snack at Chambelland, along with a loaf of gluten-free bread for the rest of the trip >>Head to dinner at Bistrot Paul Bert or Le Villaret for an authentic Parisian experience with all the typical fixings. You’ll be too buttered out by day 3 to handle this.

Saturday, the Right Bank >>Start the day at Musee D’Orsay to take in the vast impressionist collection and early work of Manet and Van Gogh. >>Wander through Napoleon’s old stomping grounds, Les Invalides (with optional detour to either the Musee De L’Armee or the Rodin Museum around the corner) >>Stop for lunch at Au Petit Tonneau for a classic red gingham tablecloth meal of escargot, salad Paysenne and veal stew. >>Continue walking off your meal to the Eiffel Tower for your requisite photo opp. >> Either pop in for more contemporary art at Palais de Tokyo, or metro back to the St. Germain-des-Pres area and enjoy a cafe at a one of the old literary haunts – Les Deux Maggot or Cafe de Flore (touristy, but fun!).

>> Check out Musee de L’Arme for French firearms and battle garb or to say hey to Napoleon in his tomb >> You can also make a pit stop at Bon Marche for some foodie keepsakes >> Take a break from all the butter with some nouveau French cuisine at Le Clown Bar or Le Grand Bain. Get past the ick factor and order the brains—it’s a must. >>Have a nightcap at the Hemingway bar at the Ritz.

Sunday, Further Afield >>Start the day with a Franco-American brunch at Hotel L’Amour or Ellsworth (make a reservation in advance), or if you’re feeling overwhelmed by 48 hours of French food, a healthy bite at Holybelly, where you can also stroll by the water in Canal St. Martin. >>Venture further afield to check out the new Louis Vuitton foundation near jardin d’acclimatation, i.e. the coolest kid’s park that ever was. You can also swap this for a day at the Louvre. >>Enjoy a mid-day cafe and pastry at Helmut Newcakes, which has the best GF eclairs in Paris! >> Head home to wherever you came from, carrying all the shoes and baguettes you can fit in your carry-on.

READER RECS

I got a lot of recommendations from readers on gluten-free and healthy restaurants in Paris. Especially in the Marais and the 9th, there are a ton of Brooklyn-esque smoothie and avocado toast spots cropping up. I didn’t find many of them to be worth it, including Wild & The Moon, which is now a chain. Their GF scone and acai bowl were sub-par, if I’m being honest. The produce in France is better across the board, and I’d personally, much rather enjoy veggies in the context of butter, cooked simply and traditionally, doing what Paris does best, than another culture’s attempt at avocado toast. That said, I’m including the full list below in case you want to try any of them, along with some more restaurants that I’ve been dying to try but haven’t been able to get to!

Gluten-free restaurants and healthy cafes:

Sitron (GF bakery) Echo Deli Cafe Woodies Le Coulauncourt Maisie Cafe The Broken Arm Republique of Coffee Cuppa Cafe BigLove (GF pizza) Cafe Berry Cafe Mareva Cafe Mericourt (shakshouka) Jay and Joy (vegan cheeses!)

Nouveau French restaurants and wine bars:

Vivant CAM Brutos Frenchie Clamato

***

Have any of you recently been to Paris? Any new or old haunts or must-see’s that I should add to my list for next time? I’m dying to go back! Let me know in the comments section

Source: https://feedmephoebe.com/healthy-hedonists-guide-paris-gluten-free-long-weekend-city-love/

0 notes

brunchbeforebocce · 7 years

Text

BRUNCH

(Written by Dave Hoos & Max Nantes)

Having supper?

Brunch. Supper is an unbuttoned shirt, dinner is a normal creased shirt. But brunch is the top button done up on a button down shirt. Maybe even with a cravat or pocket tie in the breast pocket.

Pocket tie. And a jacket. Not to be worn, but slung over the shoulder and draped across the back of the chair. Because this is brunch. Brunch is a Panama hat, with a cheeky, young riesling in a chilled ice bucket. A fruity, zesty little number with that wonderful woody aftertaste, with just a hint of rope. Brunch.

Sunday brunch.

This is brunch, brunch is the San Pellegrino of mineral waters, it is the gorgeous Scottish lamb wool when it comes to tartan picnic rugs (not plaid, never plaid)…brunch is the coffee bean picked by the gifted viola prodigy in Brazil. Brunch is life, brunch is what we live for…..brunch is simply lush.

Especially Sundays. Sunday is for brunch, afternoon tea, and supper. The conversation would go something like this…

————————————————————–

Hoos: “That would be wonderful. I’ve got a couple of bottles of riesling on ice. No, they cost around $80 a bottle. Don’t worry about the price, it’s wonderful. I usually don’t even look at the cheap ones, but these are superb. Alright, see you at 11.00.”

[Meanwhile, a voice calls from the kitchen]

Mrs.Hoos: “Darling, can you give me a hand for a minute? Breakfast is nearly ready.”

Hoos: “We’re having brunch. It’s Sunday.”

Mrs.Hoos: “Darling, it doesn’t matter.”

Hoos: “Doesn’t matter? That was Nantes on the phone. He’s coming over for brunch, not breakfast. He’s bringing his jacket especially. It’s going to be 35 degrees. Nobody brings a jacket with them in this weather unless they’re having brunch. He’s got his pocket tie ironed expressly.”

Mrs.Hoos: “Can’t you just…”

Hoos: “Brunch.”

Mrs.Hoos: “How about if we…”

Hoos: “And after brunch we were going to take a couple of bottles and take a stroll through town and toss pennies at the street vendors and market diners.”“

Mrs Hoos: "But can’t we just serve him this and call it brunch?”

Hoos: “No, he will know it’s not brunch, brunch has a feeling to it, a certain mood…..it’s when the birds are singing a certain song and that first sip of young riesling makes you feel a little dizzy and a little bit naughty…but you remember that it’s fine. Because it’s not breakfast, it’s brunch, it’s cool jazz playing, it’s when you stretch your legs, you can’t camouflage breakfast or lunch as brunch”.

Mrs Hoos: “But darling please it’s 35 degrees and I’ve been cooking all morning and it’s ready”.

Hoos: “Sorry sweetheart, brunch waits for nobody, not even brunch”.

Nantes: “Yes, and then my blazer is casually left draped on a chair and then I forget to take it with me so Hoos has to bring it over after supper, so we can then sit in our velvet smoking jackets and corduroy trousers and have a brandy with a fine Cuban cigar whilst discussing the virtues of Shakespeare’s sonnets.”

————————————————————–

Brunch is for a late lie in. Waking at ten. Having a morning stroll to the place where Jean-Pierre had his delightful little rustic café, Le Pantalon. There’s new owners now, no matter. Stroll in, even if the place appears closed. When one of the wait staff comes to tell you that they’re not yet open for lunch, give them a casual wave of the hand, and inform them that you don’t care for lunch…you’re here for brunch.

Show them your loafers.

Then tell them that this afternoon you’re having a tennis lesson with Gustav. Watch their faces. Make sure they notice that your shirt is unbuttoned at the top.

Languid. Relaxed. Brunch.

Bien sûr.

Brunch is champagne with orange juice, it’s a sharp cheddar and a watercracker with sweet fig paste….for you see brunch is autumn, it’s the cute naive exchange student from Belgium with buckled shoes that almost walk with a skip and a mouth that laughs at all your jokes even though her English is poor, brunch is the colour ocean blue, not sky blue, but the ever changing reflection of ocean blue, it’s the Oleg Markov of meals, the faded paperback book with personal footnotes written in cursive with a pencil, it’s for when a pizza is too filling but toast is too beige, but an omelette is just right. Brunch is life.

Happy brunchtime.

Brunch. Brunch is the sound of autumn leaves crackling under your loafers, it’s the imagery of a silk scarf waving in the wind from a 50’s convertable, it’s the crossaint slowly dipped into the bowl of hot chocolate. Brunch is the sound of the flame on the soy candle flickering, you don’t use it for light, but for fragrance, it’s peach and honeyblossom. Brunch is driving past Chadstone, not to go in of course, but to smirk at the shoppers wasting their time at brunchtime, it’s the feeling of getting into a lavender-infused bath and wondering if it’s too hot but then realising it’s perfect, it’s quail eggs and caviar, it’s boiled ham en gelee with parsley, rillettes of duck with prunes d'Agen, free range crispy scotch egg with homemade piccalilli on toasted sourdough bread. Brunch is young lovers carving their names on an old oak tree, it’s simply frozen grapes…it’s simply brunch.

You know, sometimes I try to imagine a life without brunch, and you know what I do? I cry…..that’s right, I cry, in fact I weep……tears running down my face like drops of condensation running down a glass of mimosa at brunch. Sunday brunch…

————————————————————–

Nantes: “I just had a chicken and salad roll, not very brunchy”

Hoos: “Chicken and salad you say? I see your point. No matter how nice the roll, chicken and salad will always be lunch. And there’s nothing wrong with a nice lunch, I had one yesterday. Ham and cheese. Delightful. But not brunch.

Never brunch.”

Nantes: “Never brunch, not even with a side of hand-cut sweet potato wedges with balsamic vinegar. Never brunch.

I think I’ll have noodle soup tomorrow. But that’s not really brunchy either.”

Hoos “Not really. If it’s minestrone soup, with a serving of ciabatta bread, roughly torn by hand (never sliced), and an attractive, attentive waitress grating thin shavings of parmesan cheese into the minestrone for you to taste until it’s…just perfect.

Then it’s brunch. But only when the wine arrives. Chilled, but not cold…sharp, but not tart…dry, but not arid…cheeky, but not inappropriate…just right. For brunch.

Always underrated.

Always, brunch.

A fry-up for brunch.”

Nantes “A fry-up is more breakfast, not brunch, but breakfast. I think the best cure at brunchtime would be coffee. Not just one, but tastings. Remember to discuss your review on each cup in terms of flavour characteristics”

Hoos “You’re right about the fry-up, of course. What was I thinking? It just seemed too late for breakfast, and a touch too early for lunch. How about brunch? Would a delightful brunch omelette help with a hangover I wonder? Perhaps it needs to be washed down with a nice bottle of white wine. Just the thing for 11:00AM with a hangover.”

Nantes: “You were thinking poorly, like a drug addled teen who uses the Pakenham line or a Western Bulldogs supporter. You know that brunch is a burgundy and cream cravat, a Perrier over frozen cantaloupe balls, for brunch is simply brunch….brunch is wine-stained tea towels from your auntie’s cellar, it’s hardback books of Russian literature without dust covers because dust covers are just so lunch, and not brunch…brunch is that cute Croatian gal who can’t quite order a Boost Juice, so you help her order amongst giggles and mumblings about banana bread….she doesn’t order banana bread, but you both express the virtues of said slice. Clean your loafers, always pay overs…this isn’t lunch..it’s brunch.”

————————————————————–

…with a robust riesling drizzled over a dozen naked oysters, your shirt unbuttoned at the sleeve, yet not still rolled up…

…it’s inviting guests for supper leftovers at eleven, then making them wait until twelve, it’s spilling wine all over your shirt and pants at the neighbour’s garden party…and then waiting to see who offers to help pat it dry…

Brunch is explaining to the dumbstruck waiter that your shoes are being worn expressly for the purpose of Sunday brunch, and taking him outside into the carpark, to proudly show him a car that isn’t yours…

Ah yes…brunch.

‘Tis brunch, I can’t add anymore other than simply…cufflinks…if your blazer is matched with your Oxford shirt appropriately….then one word, cufflinks, for brunch. Sunday brunch.

————————————————————–

Pancakes for brunch.

Mrs.Hoos: Hoos, I’m thinking of making pancakes for…

Hoos: BRUNCH!! What an excellent idea, darling. My tweed cap with the ostrich feather in the left hand side will be perfect.

Mrs.Hoos: It’s a bit overcast, darling. Perhaps we shouldn’t sit…

Hoos: Nonsense darling. Not a bit of it. You can just pop open the cantilever once you’ve laid the alfresco dining table. Set for three. Nantes is bringing his antique butterfly net. He picked it up for a song at the flea market down by the pigeon fanciers emporium.“

Nantes: "I was planning on bringing a quiche and a canapé, but it might clash with the pancakes. Are you sure she’s making pancakes? I always thought crepes were more brunch-esque, never mind will do, but don’t forget the fresh strawberries from that little gourmet orchard stall, you know, the one Alfredo told you about, it’s lush. I just can’t decide on the loafers, the hickory brown ones with the tassels, or the tawny brown without tassels. Ahh decisions. Brunch.”

Hoos: “I have an old tassled jacket that will go well with your loafers. Sorry about the pancakes. As I was perusing the wine section in the off licence (I asked them, unsuccessfully, if I might see their range of chilled, brunch rieslings) next to the, sadly, unremarkable supermarket. Whilst there, I was accosted by a 41 year old dental assistant, who accused me of stealing her aubergines from her shopping trolley. As I deftly deflected her clumsy advances and sent her crashing into a shoddily assembled grapefruit display…her left elbow grazed the container of pancake mixture that was earmarked for our delightful brunch.

I returned the damaged article at once. The risk was too great.”

Nantes: “We all know the sort, always planned on being a dentist but said she would wait until her 30’s, and then bang…40’s come around and she’s still an assistant. She says that’s what she prefers but everyone knows she’s just apathetic and takes her frustration out on dapper gentlemen in loafers trying to find brunch riesling. Then goes home to nothing more than her Beagle named Frank and her Ikea decor.”

Hoos: “Yes. And ruins brunch pancake mixture. Crepes would have been more appropriate (you are correct), but then that would have been even more of a disappointment. Luckily we still had Alfredo’s strawberries with cream and sugar to enjoy in place of the pancakes. My loafers were, thankfully, unscathed. Neither spilt pancake mixture, nor dental assistant’s spittle, in any way interfered with the integrity of my delicate, yet comfortable, early autumn footwear.”

Nantes: “Have you come from the cleaning cobbler who gave your loafers a polish and shine I suspect?”

Hoos: “A shiny coin was his ample reward. And some kind words…

"Ladislav, you are an honest, hardworking man. Do you know, I sometimes paint? Yes, yes. When I have the time, and the work has all been delegated, I like to paint. I have just finished a lovely piece, depicting a common, nondescript street cobbler, slipping and falling in a puddle of mud and filth, outside an expensive bistro, while a group of diners are watching him. Drinking, laughing, enjoying their brunch. It’s called, The Clumsy Oaf. It is magnificent. One day, with hard work, one day Ladislav, you can come up to my house and shine my shoes. And look at my painting. And if Nantes is bringing wine for brunch…shine his shoes too. He wears tassles. He will not forget. He will bring his shoes to you again.

You missed a spot.”“

————————————————————–

Brunch is being able to laugh at itself. Even if you couldn’t find your panama and had to wear your fedora. Whether the waiter is impressed by your monogrammed handkerchief, or simply confused as to why you’ve asked to see the brunch menu in a place that’s only open for lunch…it doesn’t matter.

It’s brunch. Sunday brunch.

It’s healthier, one meal instead of two with greater time in the afternoon for Bocce.

Or croquet. Or a stroll onto the golf course. Take your drinks, take the bottle. Hit the tiny ball occasionally. Let the 'golfers’ play through. It’s not why we’re here. We’re still having brunch.

END

0 notes