Breakfast is just the beginning

"If only people came with a restart button".
2012 was really tough and heavy. 
Such little time for myself, so many hours spent on traffic jams, meetings, working, thinking, explaining, taking care of others. 
I count the times I had to re-estimate relationships, take over same actions,
re-arrange time, prioritize, fall to zero and climb up again.
All these intensively, since February. Ten months later I feel that it was enough.

I needed some time alone at a familiar place. 
Me in the kitchen. Food helps me think clearly.
Quiet, strong tea and salty butter. Crispy bread, smooth goat cheese. 
Sour and sweet homemade berries' confiture.
Made myself a breakfast. Procrastination just died. 
A great day just started.

And off I go.

Bitter Broken Heart

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. 

The week before X-mas

Absent from blogging for more than two months, away from cooking for so long.
I have left aside two of my favorite leisure activities because of ...

different kinds of trouble. 

Generally.

No ganas de Navidad.  

One week before Christmas we only hear bad news. And bad news, is actuallly news.

People lose their jobs, get fired, close down forever their small, family buisiness, can't afford to pay the rent, leave their appartments to move back at their parents house, are on strike for more than three months, don't have any money to buy food, are not being able to feed their own children. 

Not at X-mas mood at all.
Can't help but wonder, is there any hope?

I hear about restaurants that offer their food in common meals and messes. 

I feel lucky and grateful that I can help.

I want to sing my favorite Christmas song, just like when I was a child, praying for the kids to enjoy their new toys. 

Only now, I will pray for people's food and survival with dignity.