Some weeks ago I paid a visit to my best friends commune in London;
after years of wishing and dreaming about roomating
four of them hopefully managed to live together.
We had our chances to catch up and reunite our spirits,
smile and laugh,
hug and feel each other,
hear the inner truth revealing itself.
Turning back home was hard and sad.
There is only one way for me to exorcise the evil.
Baking.
The british capital is always a tickle for my eye's and taste's curiosity,
so I couldn't help but endure.
In Spitalfields market I met Montezuma's chocolate.
Bitter mouthful and heavy, like lies between adolescents in love.
This was the raw material for my chocolate fondant.
Eggs, brown sugar, milk cream and a bitter, so bitter chocolate.
My heart was broken.
Unintentionally, but to the point.
