Tag: Domesticity
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The Boyfriend's Favorite (maybe)
According to French Nana it’s her beef tongue. According to Papa’s Wife it’s her couscous. According to Mrs Honey it’s her squash gratin. The Boyfriend is a food whore. Before I came along, there weren’t any serious girlfriends, so all the other women in his life cooked for him. And they all like to think…
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A Little Post About Pasta
It was a normal morning. Coffee was made. News websites were being read. And then it happened. I stumbled upon something miraculous. About pasta. Yes, pasta. I cook a lot of pasta. It’s easy, and cheap, and versatile. Delicious with tomato sauce, cream sauce, pesto, with meat, without meat, hot, cold, and almost any veggie…
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I Want Someone To Cook Me A Turkey
On this Thanksgiving morning I’m feeling a little hollow. Not really homesick hollow as much as tradition, family, and friend sick hollow. It’s been six years since I’ve lived in the States, so I’ve been without traditional Thanksgiving for awhile. But Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday, none of the pressure of Christmas but all…
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A Whole Lot of Sunday
I finally got around to having Papa’s wife over for Sunday lunch. Papa had decided that there were wild boars that needed slaying so he wasn’t able to join us, so Papa’s wife’s 88 year old mother came instead. Ok, just the ladies, no pressure. This is how the day went: 6:15 – Awake making…
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Thanks Barney
Besides covering up the Nutjob’s handy-work, aka, the romper room staircase, I’ve been slowly painting the rest of our little house. It’s slow go at the moment because this is a solo task and I’ve got other stuff to be doing. But, it’s getting done, and as the Boyfriend reminds me, I’ve got time. Anyhoo……
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Julia Child, I Need You
Cooking in France for French people feels a little intimidating. Not for the Boyfriend because I’ve tasted his cooking and he lost the right to comment. Homeboy should NEVER be allowed near a stove or an oven, or even a microwave for that matter. Actually he shouldn’t even be allowed in a kitchen (he’s only…
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The Mushroom Incident
Let me start by saying that this should have been a much happier post. A post about delectable wild mushrooms and the beautiful gourmet meal I would cook using them. But I’m just not that girl and that’s just not me. And I will also say that this incident, that will henceforth be known as…
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Some Nutjob
Some nutjob painted our house. In the middle of the livingroom stands a big, bizarre spiral staircase that could be quite charming if some nutjob hadn’t painted it. The big, impossible to ignore staircase is painted blue, green, and orange. Why would someone do this? Did they think they lived in Romper Room? Did Absinthe…
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Naughty French Words
Today I learned a bunch of new French words, all of them bad, and not fit for typing. The Boyfriend spent the better part of the day struggling with the flatpack furniture, shouting incoherent expletives, pacing the floor, and turning different shades of red. At least red is his color. bisou
It's Me, Sara Louise 