The chocolate factory

Chriss.mas ♥ i.e. how to fall in love with London in a week

2012-01-04T23:12:00.008+01:00

London gave me so many extraordinary food eperiences that I could, literally, write twice as many entries dedicated to London-related delicacies only as I have managed to write so far. Don't you worry! I'm not going to do that as I'm perfectly aware that my modest audience has some other s... to do than decipher what 'that cracked 24-year-old big head with high self-esteem and low blood glucose level* meant'. Still, there are two or three more entries yet to come (come on, I can't waste all those pretty pictures ;)). The one about Christmas is obviously the first one so that you can make use of the last bits of the Chrismassy atmosphere, which, as I discovered today, has now started making me sick.

24th: Before I left I asked myself if I wouldn't miss my mummy's cooking. A deep-fried carp, pierogis, borsch with uszkas (Gosh! The last one sounds gut-churning... though tastes mouth-watering), vegetable salad, pickled herrings in sour cream, and most importantly... croquettes. All in all - it is a great part of what Christmas Eve is about. I didn't answer back then as I usually don't answer when I ask myself questions ;) Yeah! That would be strange, your peculiar creature - to answer ;D Instead, I can answer now and with all the honesty I admit I didn't miss it a bit. No wonder! When we called my daddy and wished my parents all the best for Christmas I asked my mum quite clearly and alludingly (not to say forcingly) to spare some of these babies mentioned above for me so that I can taste a bit of Christmas in January. What a cheeky monkey I am! ;) But really, how could I possibly feel like I was missing out on something I can gorge myself on every 24th of December? That wouldn't make any sense at all. So it didn't! I relished sushi instead (wish I could remember the names to share with you). It was still fish and it was still a meatless meal, although I can't remember if I abided by the no-meat rule the whole day... Probably not beacuse this is usually what happens on Fridays - I feel, all of a sudden, like kiełbasa or bigos... Well, I am a woman, tell me I can't watch football and the next second I become the most staunchest fan of Manchester United screaming 'score!' with a beer in one hand a packet of Lay's in the other on Saturday evening... Leaving Magda Gessler, 'Agent' or 'Friends' aside. (Please, don't tell me not to watch a footbal match - I couldn't stand it ;)).
Anyway... thanks, Vas for this delicious Christmas supper with no Bethlehem star on the sky but with a lot of sun on the plates. BTW, I would never pay this much money for this little food no mater how artistic, posh, healthy, omega-3-fatty-acids-loaded and upper class it is ;p

our stylish Christmas supper

25th & 26th: Ok, but what about the rest of the feast? Bigos, kiełbasa with horseradish (take it after my father), roasted chicken (actually all kinds of meat available within a few kilometres from our house**), Greek-style fish (is it really Greek?). As a matter of fact I didn't give a bugger about it as, again, I treated myself on Italian Melanzane alla parmigiana ;D (Shit! I feel like (a) I'm going to become a polyglot once I move to London! Also hope (b) I won't absorb kcalories and kilograms as quickly and swiftly as I wish to absorb the languages and even more of British accent ;) And definitely, (c) I will turn into a big-headed bitch with the best body throughout the UK, the cutest boy ever and all these Prada bags, Hilfiger shoes, Louis Vuitton dresses and Bulgari jewellery nobody in my hometown is able to afford).
What was magical about this one is the fact it was prepared by a real Italian guy who had to spice it up a bit with a shot of vodka between one toss of pizza dough and another (Chriss saw him do it) and who said that the wine I asked about was neither too dry nor too sweet but just about right. Which actually tells me he knows shit about wine, yet somehow (probably by accident) this one appealed to my taste, which, anyway, is not that sophisticated, let's face it.

My juicy Melanzane with Christopher's crunchy Capriciosa and Our summer wine

Sweets (always a different story): That was about proper food but what about improper sweets? Back at home we baked Snickers (which, this year, apparently wasn't as good as ours - chapeau bas! Christopher ;*), there was moist poppyseed cake, soft gingerbread and the creamiest cheese cake ever. Can anything beat that? I dare say... Cadbury®! ;) It certainly isn't mummy-like but maybe this is the very secret why it is so special. Not even a super mum could make it with mere household appliances. I was (and still am) wondering why it isn't available in Poland? They*** have got the whole range of chunkies, roses, buttons, caramels, eclairs, flakes and even heroes ;) You may imagine my facial expression when I had them in one place at some point. Opened and tried all of them. We both did (It's so good to share the guilt ;)). Chechnya children? No, Polish imigrants ;)

Mummy, look what Santa brought me! :)

So, if one asks me if I could feel Christmas this Christmas I must deny. A bare-faced lie doesn't make any sense (in public - even less). Yet, I felt loads of love and tenderness which any Christmass cookies, delicious mixtures or best-prepared meat couldn't make up for it in thousands of years. My first Christmas in London and I feel completely bewtiched. Well, they say the way to man's heart is through his stomach :) But this is about the city. Chriss got down to the very bottom of my heart and filled it completely in the number of other manners ;D

*not at all because I'm short of 'truly irresistible Belgian cookies' by the co-operative® (which basically, taste so much better back at home were thay were miraculously born than in Poznań - I guess they don't go with the salty tinge of sadness and longing). I'm short of the sugar of my life:
[C]rispy on the outside
[h]orribly tender on the inside
[r]eally juicy
[i]rresistibly yummy
[s]crumptiuous (I've just learnt a new word) with every bite, sip, lick or suck ;)
[s]trong with an enduring aftertaste****

** yes!, my daddy also gives in all the Christams shopping rage and my mum professes the pawn-but-splurge-to-show-off theory.

*** soon it's going to be 'WE'

**** the riddles must be the influence of 'Agent' and the follow-up asterisks - of articles on lexicography

Emphasising the curves

2011-12-04T20:25:00.009+01:00

Of course not mine! I don't have any! And it's been officialy stated since yesterday... when I bought the smallest size of jeans ever, namely XXS. Well, if I am to be honest - skinny jeans are supposed to be skinny. Does it apply to the one who wishes to wear them? The name speaks for itself, doesn't it? In this way of thinking a croissant - which by definition is bread with a curved shape - is supposed to be with a curved shape, yet not necesssarily bread. We (we?) have to offer much more than that! Saint Martin croissants! Mind you, Poznań Rogal świętomarciński is protected by patent so don't try to fool yourself into believing that you know what it tastes like if you ate it outside Wielkopolska Province. But who am I to say so? Ok, I'm in no way - not in the slightest bit - a legitimate resident of Poznań as:
a) I don't overuse the irritable and omnipresent 'teeeeeej!'(unless for the fun of it);
b) I am willing to change money when somebody needs 2zł to leave the stuff in a library locker;
c) I don't wear red socks with green trousers, a leather jacket and a dazzling pink woollen bag;
d) I don't give a tiny rabbit's ass about whether Lech Poznań wins or loses ;p

But still... if November the 11th* is to be celebrated** by eating (in my case trying) St Martin croissants then I'm 100% on board, especially if I'm given home-baked babies. It doesn't matter they weren't well-advertised as supposedly 'the husband' added too much almond oil as I don't look a gift horse in the mouth and gift sweets under puffy crust. Thus, they were delicious... as pretty much everything that happens to have more sugar than salty sticks (which surprisingly have quite an amount of the sweet substance***). However, the fact that I needed literally two weeks to eat them does not actually add to their excellence but to the fact that my new skinny jeans are not skinny without a reason ;)

* how come the only thing that comes to my mind hearing/writing/encountering/reading dates is the idea/trouble of teaching them to students and the problems they have/had/are going to have/are having/have had/have been having/ (what other tense or structure should I mention?) with remembering that 'in' is for months and 'on' is for dates?
** what a lame excuse we make up for yet another occasion to gorge ourselves.
*** I'm learning to substitute some words and expressions with their synonyms (MA thesis in the making).

Los tres mosqueteros

2011-10-22T20:38:00.003+02:00

Ladies and Gentleman, this evening I am more than happy to introduce a highly noble hit of the season (which, by the way, I hope is about to hit more seasons :)) of which I'm in awe and which keeps calm despite the whole fuss I create.
Boys and girls, feel pleased to have the honour of getting to know Mr know-all Walnut, Mrs cuddly Almond and Mr Cashew the Bruiser :D
Something I helped myself to during one of passionate lectures at UAM when every minute seems to be an eternity and every word of the prof. K. seems to weigh thousand tones (nevertheless, I am glad I'm back... There is some magic indeed in those meetings every other week - thanks to my girls, I guess, and my unrestrained hunger for knowledge).
It is how I discovered how brainy Spaniards can be, how expensive it is to travel to the south of Europe, how to make a calorie bomb out of already calorific nuts and... what is the best dummy for a miniature flagpole once you feel like taking a photo for your blog ;)

And in the present state of my mind (what/who is in it), my taste in music (what gives me goose pimples) and my bikini area & legs (how smooth they are ;D) the three musketeers come into even greater prominence. With clean (washed??) conscience and power I can revise (shouldn't I know something in the first place so as to revise? ;p), improve and learn (the last word seems the best)* Spanish.
And so I read what they write on the package and I feel as if my love towards the language is expanding (Dear English, you are still my number one... though sooner or later I'm to have a (secret?) lover) -> "Soy vital" is something I can still react calmly and reasonably to (yet I believe it 100% which is not all that reasonable) but "Bañados en chocolate" literally flies me to the moon. It's pure poetry and I wouldn't put it in a more delicate, ethereal and tempting way myself ;)

Entonces, ya que estoy escribiendo una nota sobre nogales españoles tengo que presentar mi mísero nivel de la lengua ;) Creo que hay un poquitito peligro que mi estimados mosqueteros no van a entender inglés y este sería impensable

* I've noticed there are (too?) many digressions in what I write. I think too much... if it's possible. I guess should clean my mind before cleaning anything else <- nothing particular in mind.

Peas and carrot for peace and quiet

2011-10-08T19:39:00.010+02:00

In order to relish tranquility, equanimity, to keep one's head and one's attained weight. I'm telling you, once you notice:
- that the pair of old trousers (the ones that are one size smaller) fits you;
- that your belly does not shake like a bowl full of jelly (regards, Santa!!) once a bus tries to get through yet another street under construction (God, bless EURO 2012!);
- that your legs could not look more gorgeous in the lycra-tights-and-a-smart-mini combination;
- that you intimidate* boys (or should I say men?) and piss off* girls (as I am the only proper woman in a crowd) with your shape (* pretty much everything you wish to do :))
... you feel like peas and carrots are your best friends indeed! The satisfaction is the biggest prize ever.

I am not saying you are to eat vegetables only but rather to be a bit calorie cautious and make use of your counting skills gained during primary school (really! it's all you need -> adding 100kcal contained in 'kefir' and 70kcal contained in one apple does not sound like complex mathematics).
But it's not all I eat, God forbid! There is plenty (a highly subjective issue, supposedly) of room for eggs, TESCO bread (do not confuse with the cheap one), milk and even a square of dark 'Wedel' in the morning (sometimes I feel like this is the only reason why I am willing to get up at 07.07 am ;)).
however, being calorie cautious is a tough choice. People just don't get it! Has everybody got this an-old-grumpy-aunt approach according to which:
- if you devour pretty much everything that is within reach then you are 100% healthy
- if you refuse to eat broth just because you feel like otherwise you are not capable of eating the second course (except for wedding receptions) you definitely must be one of the following: anorexia person, bulimia person, a 5th year student with psychological disorders, a burnt-out English teacher, a single 24-year-old on the edge of commiting suicide, a desperate non-housewife whose e-mail address tells that she is confused and underestimates herself.
Ladies and Gentlemen! I am NOT any of the mentioned above. I just feel like life begins at 24 and I do want to look irresistible at this particular time!! ;D

Citronnelle*

2011-09-01T14:01:00.004+02:00

* It had to be French because this is the only language (out of a very limited number of languages I know ;)) in which the name of the drink sounds noble. And noble it has to sound as this is the only alcoholic beverage (out of a great number of all I've tasted) which deserves the title.
First of all, you don't need to struggle with hangover the next day. It stays a mystery to me how it's possible but this is what all the gifts of nature have in common. Though it may get a bit dangerous since one may feel encouraged to drink in the middle of a week regardless of how early they start their work.
Secondly, you don't have to add many other beverages to cover or kill the taste of the Lady in Yellow as this is the very taste of her you want your taste buds to get to know. Call me crazy but a bit of still water is just about enough. It leads me to infer she doesn't like competition very much, although she is a great friend with a straw, a few ice cubes and the glass "Brodnica. Pakuj z nami" (who doesn't get a little friendly with them?). Again, your sobriety is in peril as you might forget you are drinking vodka and put your controlling mechanism in the 'holiday mode'.
Thirdly, she is all so beautiful in her simplicity. The list of ingredients is the shortest ever, yet she needs some time to mature. Even here a low price and a low level of difficulty lurk just around the corner. You won't even manage to look back and you've got a large pot full of lemon vodka; and you've got a weekend ahead of you; and you've got a willing someone asking for a top-up ;)
So maybe, all in all, she is not all that noble. The wolf in the sheep's clothing. Little Red Riding Hood dealt with the wolf pretty well, why shouldn't I?

But don't you dare to think I'm on the verge of alcoholism. I haven't touched a glass with any drink which would even remotely resemble alcohol - let alone our eponymous character - for over a week. (In order to deny all forthcoming slanders and confirm all ongoing concerns -> No, I'm not drying out and yes! I am on a diet).
Hm, so maybe this is why I got down to writing this... out of longing ;) Shit! Now I sound like an alcoholic. Why... I am one, but it is love messages, electronical kisses and hugs I binge drink and I leave hangover for others. I'm Alpha Female!

Her name is Sophia; she is a school girl...

2011-08-06T16:27:00.003+02:00

My mum used to say: 'ain't no home where there ain't no salt'. Although the source and the profound sense of this commandment appears as a great mystery to me I've been taking it for granted ever since. With the view to enriching the folk wisdom and exteningd its scope I coined a brand-new thought: 'ain't no home where there ain't no salt, ain't no cement where there ain't no wine'. For how one can build a loving and understanding flat community without this drink of the gods? So this is how we happen to be connoisseurs (not to say 'be addicted') of entry-level wine (not to say 'cheap') and how we started sharing our ups and downs, broken hearts, lifted weights, car frauds and picked up ideas (not to say 'gossip' or 'talk behind others' backs'). Not that we are incapable of doing all these when there's no red dry wine coupled with a few ice cubes but it's just more fun.
Wine DOES 'open' interlocutors but it does not open itself all that easily ;D Theoretically she (as I assume wine needs to be female since its dignity and sensitivity on one hand and its strength and self-confidence on the ohter ;)) only lets her friend Mr Crokscrew the Twisted to open her and still he needs to have special approach as she isn't easily accessible (Indeed! She has to be a woman then). But even a well-protected and well-guarded woman can get carried away and get seduced. Believe me! I have 24 years' experience in being a woman (or so I think) and two months' experience in (binge??) drinking ;O (well, what can I say... there always happens to be a good occasion to have a couple of glasses of wine).

A continuación*... theoretically you need a corkscrew, whereas practically you can sod it ;D (British is not only about bon ton*). And when you sod it it's even more fun. This is what happens when Tomu (aka Zbychu who is willing to put up different Grażynas any time they need) leaves and takes the one and only and, thus, so precious corkscrew with him. But as a child I must have watched a lot of episodes of 'Mr Gadget' (although don't remember) and even more of 'McGyver (and this I remember) since I made a perfect corkscrew-like device, a knife-spoon-and-kitchen-cloth bottle opener. Actually WE did as could my dad be more unpredictable and helpful and could Ola be more determined to drink before she hits the floor?? ;D
Basically, first we scraped out half of the cork with a Tom's expensive knife and than pushed in what was left with a nobody's cheap spoon protecting the clothes with a kitchen cloth. Voila!* ;) Pieces of the cork floating in the wine didn't really bother us and the satisfaction was undescribable. Every fool can open a bottle of wine with a corkscrew and this was somewhat more complex.
Now I am seriously thinking about writing some manual as I see its future in bright colours among students, graduates, under-gratuates, post-gratuades, candidates for university seats and those facing make-up exam ;) Brilliant, isn't it?!

* In case you haven't noticed I used three different languages which may mean I am either:
a) well-educated
b) emotionally (?) and linguistically unstable and disloyal
c) a show-off
d) a real artist who gives an outlet for her talent only in the state of high addiction to various stimulants (you choose ;))

A short story about a Good Bread which is NOT a Piece of Cake

2011-07-20T16:33:00.005+02:00

Yes! That's right, I'm going to write about (dare say elaborate on) bread. It is a wacky world! ;) But what can you write about bread? Can you discover anything new? Won't people be bored to death after a few lines? And in the first place - why to pay attention to the staple which has been known for centuries, the consumption of which is so obvious and devoid of sophistication and the rumination over which usually lasts about a few seconds and boils down to 'how thick slices should I cut off?' and in the case of a sliced bread - 'how many slices should I take' and 'why the hell are heels always so small?'? (have you noticed this supercalafragilisticexpialidocious question? ;D)
Why? Because as the basis of our diet one should give it some time and should think over what bread is good bread. Otherwise the pyramid will collapse ;p And as a matter of fact it does collapse for (doing a quick calculation)... mas o menos 8 out of 10 people. I know only one person who actually thinks when she goes shopping. The rest seems to switch to 'grey matter at rest' mode ;)
Basically, we may distinguish between three types of bread buyers:
a) 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' type - those people literally pay no attention to what they buy.
Products: White? Sliced? E300? E920? Yeah! Whatever! As long as it isn't stale and not too mouldy.
Excuses: food is full of preservatives anyway so why bother about bread?
my grandma used to bake white bread and I am a traditionalist ;D
Comment: don't get it but I'm not bothered. One thing convinient - price.
b) 'bread quacks' - those people think they buy a good loaf of bread but they buy as shitty bread (or even shittier) as the representatives of the first type.
Products: Dark! Definitely dark! The healthiest. Over and done with! But isn't it dark thanks to burnt sugar? And yes... it has grains and the prettiest seeds but the amount of ascorbic acid would disturb poor Albert Szent-Györgyi.
Excuse: the print on the label is too small to notice it is full of crap.
Comment: get it and I am amused. One thing convenient - half-clean conscience.
c) balanced enthusiasts (close to extinction) - those poeple (I should say 'we') not only know what to buy but they know what they buy and are passionate labels readers ;)
Products: rye bread which is rye and not fake, heavy and not puffed, brown not blushing with embarrassement ;) and which after a few days gets stale not mouldy (which is BTW one of the methods to check the quality of bread).
Excuse: no excuse -> motto then: my body is not a rubbish dump.
Comment: get it and love it, not amused but delighted. One thing inconvenient - it is time consuming to find a loaf of good bread.

The hero of the story with a friend made in Japan ;)

Are you aware how hard it is to find not even good but simply real bread? Several dozen of shelves in a supermarket and only one for bread to which I am willing to devote some time. And still... half of those goodies have something that spoils them and makes me put it back onto the shelf.
What disturbs me a lot is that many respected companies produce a shit spelled with a great 'S'. And they charge enormous prices. I don't know about you but I personally don't feel like eating shit and being force to pay for it ;)
But, do not worry. Helathy bread does exist but you need to lose some time in order not to lose your hope ;)
P.S. Shoo! The longest note about an alleged bore :)

Debauchery - limited edition

2011-06-27T12:24:00.002+02:00

Whenever I go home I'm 100% sure my stomach will be pleased, my nostrils will be spoilt and my taste buds will explode because of all the variety of tastes. Now, when I've been living in exile for nearly a year it is impossible to go home and not to eat a proper meal. It's not that I feel obliged to have family dinner but I just keep forgetting how broth tastes and how to chew a piece of a chicken breast. Thus, visiting my family house is the best opportunity ever to... eat. Why? Because I'm living with a cook who doesn't cook at home, I have more time which I think I don't, I'm not forced by anyone to eat which I dare say every now and then sucks.
And what is great about it, is that my parents really find pleasure in offering me all they have. Sometimes I think they wish to put the refrigerator on my back and wish me to travel light ;)

LOVALOT

And once at home, there's no criticism left. I don't judge, I don't frown, I don't demand too much, which is so unlike me! ;) I'm so positive with my parents around, in the place I truely love and which truely loves me. This is where I feel love and where I feel safe and where broth tastes the best not because of a well-balanced amount of pepper and salt but because of this piece of heart put into it. (Fuck! Why am I so sensitive today?) Anyway, the broth was fantastic and I felt like its temperature just melted my heart and again it was terribly hard to go back to Poznań.
Green beans, cauliflower and fried cabbage a'la my grandmother made it even harder. Figuratively because I had to leave my hearth; literally because I ate more than I had thought I am able to.

All the good things and a wholly good daddy ;)

Today I finally rose to the decision I'm going to start cooking and in order not to lose the zeal and to make it work I chose weekends for the time when the kitchen's going to change into a small restaurant (one-person restaurant but still). My next step towards being a valuable woman. The first one was when I put my tattoo idea aside... It wouldn't look good if and when one day my baby would stretch it ;O

As if I was a queen ;)

2011-05-28T16:05:00.015+02:00

Who said that beer needs to be served in an unsexual can, a heavy bottle, an unhandy mug or - the worst case scenario - an ordinary glass? (I used the same opening last time - am I getting into a rut? Hope not!)
Those smart ones must have noticed my aversion towards the aforementioned containers. Those who are none too clever probable shouldn't be reading it ;p
So yes! What I pour my beer, wine, vodka (?) in is of the same importance as the alcohol itself and I swear to God that shape does make a difference (whereas size - in this case - doesn't ;)). The same wine served in two different glasses doesn't taste the same.
I can't say, tough, that a beer needs a fancy glass and actually the wine glass presented here wasn't a must at all. However, they were the only 'reasonable' containers we had and they were big enough to hold the whole can of beer (I still maintain that size doesn't matter - not that I suffer from any inferiority complex ;p)

Only in black and white does the Queen look serious and dignified ;)

My beloved brother Ricardo (m ɪ ʃ j ə !!) once said: 'Tyskie ponad wszystkie' ;) and he quiet clearly highlighted the beer's position and splendour among other Polish beers. Since Tyskie is said to be royal it seems blatant for both the glass and the drinker to maintain the status. Well, you can see the sophistication of the glass with your own eyes and I guess nobody would ever question my queen-like manners ;)
So this is how we spiced up our conversation about lovers, boyfriends-to-be, ex-boyfriends, boys, guys, mates, men and louts ;) sitting on a balcony on the ninth floor with the wind blowing and the music playing in the distance.
Cause sometimes I feel like girls ;D
cause sometimes it's advisable to downgrade this and that
cause sometimes it is well-seen to use something unused
cause it is open-minded to look at the world from the ninth-floor perspective
cause it broadens your mind to understand how to pour the sand*

* Hold it loosely with an open hand - the sand remains where it is.
The tighter you grasp it the faster it trickles through your fingers.

Birthday isn't easy / Cumpleaños no es un evento fácil *

2011-04-10T11:52:00.017+02:00

And it's not in the slightest bit caused by the fact that you are turning twenty-four and you are a year older... however, time should stop right about now ;)
It's not difficult 'cause of the need to keep up with the guests and the speed at which they consume vodka.
It's not difficult to run headlong in order not to miss the bus and not to be late for the birthday supper at Pizza Hut and then eat the whole lasagne.
What I have in mind is the (a)mount(ain) of sweets you are given (Thank God there is Cristobál who is always willing to pick his favourite candies and gulp them down).
You get the sweets from the significant ones since they know better than you what a great sweet tooth you are.
You get them from those who believe a book is not enough and a huge box of chocolates will perfectly fill in a birthday bag (sometimes the size of a gift or a bag does matter).
You get them from those who are invited yet do not know you well enough to get sth that would completely fit your interests and a good-quality chocolate (or rather bought at a high figure) seems to hit the bull's eye.
You get them from those who suffer from a low budget but are courteous enough not to turn up empty-handed and sweetless.
You get them from everybody... so did I really have to write all these, I'm wondering?

from the left: a piece of heaven, hot chocolate with ice cream and the cave of debauchery

And your duty is to eat it. Not because the givers may feel offended or think they had thrown the money down the drain (however little they spent). They probably won't even care about it except for those who share the flat with you and who have this great urgency to be praised for what they're doing (in this case for what they are giving).
First of all, the temptation is too big (there is no need to comment on this).
Secondly, one would be a foolish fool to let a chocolate go to waste. One cannot do it to chocolate. What has she (I personally believe chocolate must be 'she') done to you to deserve such indifference?? ;p
Thirdly, a piece of chocolate a day makes your smile wider and if administered wisely, it is not that harmful.
Fourthly, how far can you go refraining yourself from pleasure? One life (unless reincarnation is a real thing. Anyway I'm going to come back as a tigeress ;) and my staple is not going to be chocolate) and one birthday in a year.

* learning of Spanish in progress ;)

POORridge

2011-01-31T08:42:00.009+01:00

... since it's always been poor. Not until a few weeks ago did I decide to have myself a merry little breakfast, sth different (not necessarily more luxurious) from ordinary sausages, toasts and scrambled eggs; and since, upon my arrival in Poznań, I discovered oatmeal I thought it could be quite an idea to try this notorious bugger, which so far I had known only from English commercials and cartoons. We all know it comes 1st (ex aequo with spinach) in a 'Top Food Tastes Kids Love to Hate' competition and children have been threatened with it more successfully than with a bogeyman for ages ;) However, as a big girl I've managed to pluck up enough courage to face the children's nightmare and in fact it turned out not to be that scary at all.

I sweetened it up with my beloved raisins and gobbled it all. It might look a bit dry, but it's due to the fact that it had to wait for me for over an hour till I finished my private classes. I guess oatmeal must have absorbed the milk somehow (my powers of deduction are amazing ;D) and instead of a soup-like breakfast I had a pulp - still tasty and nutricious ;) I even like it more this way. Since then I've had it once more as I discovered that its GI is too high. Not that I strictly follow the rules (have just officially admitted to it and I'm not proud of myself at all), but if I can choose what to eat and all four options sounds alike to me, I'd rather go for meat and proteins. Especially now, when delicious pork chops, pierogis and fasolka po bretońsku (food supplies from my mummy) are waiting for me in the fridge (and for Cristóbal, of course), I will give porridge a miss.

The fudginess of a smile

2010-12-20T09:37:00.012+01:00

What does a potato have to do with confectionery? Hopefully nothing, unless one has a crazy mother who specialises in purée poured over with chocolate sauce (however, not all that combines meat with a sweet flavour is bad and I can fully recommend turkey with cranberry sauce).
And what does the potato holiday have to do with sweets? Hopefully a lot! I guess there's no need to explain it to true-born Poles that Poznań is (in)famous (?) for potatoes and every year Poznań dwellers celebrate the days of Poznań with tones of baked potatoes stuffed with white cheese and chives.

However, it is seemly to explain that I am... I have been a citizen of Poznań for a few months now (although it still feels like three months only and this is what I say to every newly- acquainted person... and so does Christobal). This is how I landed up in Łęgi Dębińśkie. It is worth mentioning that we travelled twice as long as we stayed there as Chritopher believed he knew Poznań better than I did (not this time, my dear... not this part of the capital of Wielkopolska, at least).
Anyway, we turned up at the concert of Myslovitz quite unexpectedly. Not that somebody expected us. It's just we didn't expected ourselves to be there, to wander this much, this long and this stubbornly and persistently.
Tired (both physically and mentally), resigned and NOT at all hungry, we considered a stall with fudge a refuge. It was my first time I had seen so many candies in one place and so great a variety of sweets. This is what the heaven looks like after a long, lonely hike. We chose our favourite and paid too much but I must say, with fugde melting in my mouth Myslovitz sounded much better. It is really hard to judge then, which was a bigger attraction of the evening ;)

How foolish of me it was to believe the fudgy kingdom is 'assembled' just for this one particular occasion. Apparently the fudge-makers were specialties representatives of The Posen Region and I had the pleasure of meeting them again at Bethlehem-like Fair in the town square (www.poznan.pl). That was also the first time I had tasted oscypek (oh! Be English on your English blog!) Ekhm! I meant smoked ewe's milk cheese made in the Tatra Mountains... (neat! ;D). Tasty but not fudgy enough ;)

Home Plumish Home

2010-09-10T13:24:00.008+02:00

Why do I like my home? Because home sweet home ;)
And it's true what they say, that one is more appreciative once they miss sth and are on the verge of forgetting the voice of the closest ones.
So yes, I went back home for the whole looooong two days and I may already say I felt like a stranger there (a new fancy fountain in the centre of a park and street plates had nothing to do with it ;)), which made the journey way, way more exciting.
The moment I crossed the threshold... pierogi ;D

space for explanation -> My mum is not an empathic listener (I sometimes wonder whether she is a listener at all ;)) and whenever somebody veers off towards a topic she doesn't understand/like/care about, she feels perfectly ok to impose on a speaker the subject she knows in quite abrupt a manner. Start talking about politics and she will tell you about how hard it is to dry the laundry in winter;, tell her about your problems with Internet access and she will confide in you she can't get rid of the pain in her left eye; start talking about your job and she will all of a sudden feel like... PIEROGI ;)

In fact, this time pierogi were what I needed. I brought a jar of berries with me to make some well-sealed dumplings. Why does a girl travel a hundred kilometres with a handful of berries?
a) she has no flour at her second home
b) she has no time
c) she wishes to have sth to pore over with her mum
d) she wants to please her boyfriend ;)
What does a girl's mother say to that?
a) she laughs at her daughter and the aount of berries ;)
b) she gives her money to buy some more fruit
c) she is glad she can 'help' and make the best dough ever
d) she talks pierogi (soon the expression should appear in Macmillan ;))

Since there were no berries for me to buy (not even frozen ones) I had to resort to plums, which eventually turned out to be better as far as filling is concerned (with Christovan as the one-man jury ;)).

On the house

2010-08-21T11:08:00.015+02:00

What do I like my new (temporary) job for? It pleases my stomach and helps me to economise expenses. No matter whether I feel like a cod fillet, pancakes, a saute, a camembert coated with breadcrumbs served with a cranberry sauce... just need to go over the menu and point it out to one of the boys. Though it is better to turn to the right boy ;) It is not that I devour every dish I can't afford at home (oh, shit! may say now I have a new home... have I grown up already? ;)) and that I enter the restaurant with Mr. Hunger trailing behind and, thus, feeling perfectly ready to jump at whatever is freshly cooked/boiled/fried/roasted the moment I'm at the threshold... although I do think about a scoop of ice cream. (if there are chocolate, rum or dried fruits in stock I am tempted to take three... so far I have never won te battle with temptation ;))

Swiss cutlet - one of my favourites

But let's go back to 'healthy' = proper food. In general, I tend to try everything (there was a thought to stick to a Greek salad with extra chicken for a sec, however) except for meals I know I wouldn't be able to swallow for various reasons - too fat, to starchy, too gross (e.g. black pudding aka. back bloody sausage, the whole truth about which I have discovered recently... yuck! ;/). Funny and suprisingly enough, there is never a this-thing-is-too-big issue. I have got hungry Christovan at home, after all ;) Therefore, feel welcome to ask for the biggest portion even and make use of take away boxes.

Greek lady

So this is how I manage to survive and how it's dawned on me (though the moon hasn't set totally and probably won't) that peanuts, apples, tea and cereals (crazy me!) are not really that trendy. This is how my love towards meat has been developing for a few weeks now. Well-prepared, perfectly-served, skilfully-wrapped and FREE! ;)
This is how I avoid instant soups, ready-made sauces with blissfully overboiled pasta, and stealing others' bread when all of a sudden I realise that have run out of my own ;)
This is how I taste (or should I say 'sample'? ;p) the dishes so that later on I can either recommend or advise somebody against it. Theoretically, of course since I would never tell the truth. Yet, I am not a bad waitress... I do not spit in clients' soups ;)

Lord(s) of the flies in exile

2010-07-18T19:48:00.020+02:00

Provided, a conscious decision and a move on request can be ranked as an exile. A refugee from the 21st century. Except for the first few days:
* when I couldn't find an easy crossing to the other side of the street (damn Rondo Kaponiera!)
* when we had no spoons, knifes, forks and toilet paper ;)
* when I was snowed under with a tone of Xerox copies, books, scans, books, notes and even more books (fortunatelly, there is something to show for my effort)
* when I was overwhelmed with prices of sausages, pork loin, butter and penauts
* when I realised I had forgotten to take with me things which all of a sudden appeared to be soooo useful and necessary
* when I was given hope and then the same hope crumpled when I saw where the #85 bus the #1 tram took me and a good-looking restaurant I pictured in my head turned into a kind of a tin eating-house
Yes, so except for all these, Poznań charged me with positive emotions and it still has been good at it.
What I am trying to say (mincing my words terribly) is that one's own mug is a very crucial thing in one's own life. One really does not appreciate enough the value of his or her mug until he or she is forced to do so (Do I sound like Holden Caulfield??).

With the view of Tesco and a bit of Poznań

I brought two mugs with me; however, the one which means a lot to me (I am sentimental) is not extremely photogenic, is a bit too plain and its flaws were brought out once we felt like trying out a dishwasher (yes, we all come from a village and we go crazy whenever we see a dishwasher ;)). It will not be displayed for the reasons above mentioned.
On the contrary, the one I am presenting is quite representative (besides a little crack which is inside and tries to get outside). I was given it about two years ago and since that time I have used it just up to 10 times, which is an example of disappreciation. It was not until the move that I made friends with Czesio and his two roles, namely Robin Hood and Robocop, which is an example of a successful appreciation. Although it is quite a drink-enhancer, especially when it comes to a cocoa drink, what matters the most is that it is mine... my very own mug in a very not-own, unknown, new zone.

I don't know about Robocop but I am almost certain that Robin Hood was an exile or, at least, he had some exile issue.

Drive me (pea)nuts ;)

2010-06-26T18:07:00.013+02:00

Peanuts here, peanuts there... peanuts everywhere

My artistic gift has gone to the dogs. Artistic performance doesn't reflect my artistic competence at all. I really could do better, but do I care? (Am I bothered? ;D) No, not really. For recently, the focus was transferred from Arts to Grammar and from emotions to intellect. All in all, my afflatus is gone. So let's move on to what matters today and what made me log in, namely peanuts.
If one may inherit affection for peanuts I definitely did it. I used to like them only (just like my mother, who is the inheriter*), but gradually I fell in love and this is how the student surpassed the master. I am an inheritee* of peanutove (excuse the blending... I am in the middle of studying for my bachelor's examination)

* I love the way English 'bends'

Basically, peanuts are indispensable. You could do with salt sticks, spicy crisps or snacks, but - delicious as they might be (and I do like them, too!) - those would be just substitutes... So whenever there is a mug of beer, a glass of wine, a glass of spritish wine or winish sprite (depends on how much I can drink and get drunk on a given day), there must be peanuts. Usually I buy a 400-gramme packet just in case, just to feel secure and make sure I will not run out of them ;) But sometimes, despite all safety precautions, I do run out of me dearly beloved beer-enhancers... what do I do then? I guess, I do not remember the moment clearly ;) and I am so full that one peanut more could make me sick.
Peanuts are even better than I previously thought as they present a metaphorical meaning. The most loveable comic strip illustrated by Charles M. Schulz. Innocent, pure, funny and fetching characters make me believe in forces of Good again. I am the one of these ;)

Never late for caffe latte

2010-05-29T12:33:00.016+02:00

Though, it is too late to retreat. Two years have passed by in no time. Never have I managed to stay with anybody for that long (or is it a matter of whether they could not put up with me...? how come?). One way or another, I have a box of 'Jacquot Truffes: Chocolatier Depuis 1920' (admire my French) and again they will be consumed gradually... one by one, although they seem to kind of come out, brave bastards. And I must admit, I would never ever buy it myself... I don't have that amount of money to spare on sweets... I am perfectly fine with a low-budget dark chocolate, really ;)

With Matasek under it... let him enjoy ;)

But this is really a delight which, I guess, I can afford every two years ;D Coffee-flavoured truffles ain't my favourite, though. And Macmillan told me they usually have alcohol in them and these do not! (take it easy, Lizzy). Also, its calorific value is not given... Am I bothered? ;D Not the slightest bit. 'A truffle a day, makes you experience a bit of May' (which, BTW, we were not bound to see)

the one with my dental imprint

Long live... (he's long dead)... R.I.P. The French "Sun King", Loius XIV!

Oh, there is also a rose on the kitchen table; yet, I cannot it thaaaat ;)

Under the weather and under the duvet

2010-04-17T09:42:00.008+02:00

Apparently April is the best time of the year for me to go down with upper airways inflammation and bronchitis. I hate my innate timing (as if it wasn't enough that I have difficulty with timing during the lessons... greetings to the kids). And the irony of fate didn't disappoint me this time, either as tests are mushrooming and I will either miss them just in order to have fun alone later on or I will leave my warmy bed and move the ass to the college in a smelly bus which will probably give me quite an impressive 'package of viruses'.

My army

Suffice it to say, I hate being ill and I hate staying in bed. I hate being lazy. It is not that I love working my guts out but it is against the nature to stay in bed during the day.. if only I had a laptop on my lap. (wow! I have just discovered the etymology of the word laptop.. it is a LAPtop, isn't it? A thing on top of your lap ;D) Then, I could do soooo much more! In the present situation, there is nothing left for me but read (I wonder how I can do with if I want my hands to be hidden under the duvet), write (this is even a bigger 'quest'), sleep (here I can really dive into bed)... How long can I put up with this vegetation? I guess the earlier I start, the earlier I finish... so it's time I heated the bed and if you are a handsome dark-hair man feel invited ;D

Shamanic She - SHEesha

2010-03-19T18:38:00.013+01:00

You won't feel it, unless you try it. I was sceptic myself (what a self-conceited doubting Thomas I am) and before I took the first fag, I had seen it as an unnecessary whim. Now I can certainly act as an inducer. If you haven't tried it as yet, try it... If you have than buy another box of honeydew tobacco and... smile ;) Honey and dew speak for themselves - honey on the lips and dew in the lungs.

Nothing else can make the taste of beer better and no beer can make the taste of her worse. Absolutely harmless (speaking from my own experience... I used to be perfectly able to pass out after a cigarette), absolutely tasty whatever flavour you choose. Remember to light it properly, though. Absolutely attractive and comercial-and-movie-like. To the best of my recollection, only Snoop Doggy Dog has created so smoky atmosphere so far. Now you can do it as well. At home, at hand, close in time and close in space. And if you wish, this may be your private fog machine (verbatim / figuratively*) ;D (reference: 'One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest') But I do not insinuate anything. I am just under the influence of Kesey and under the influence of sheen of sheesha.

* an unnecessary option to be crossed out

Holiday confession

2009-12-29T11:38:00.016+01:00

Christmas reminded me of... sweets ;O Too bad.
All of a sudden all my limits and safety precautions ;) were flushed down the toilet. And the funny thing was that the more I ate and the more I was stuffed, the more I felt like eating. I guess it was one of these kinds of thinking "Oh! What the hell... have yourself a merry little Christmas" ;) And the hell it was. Three days of sins and remorse. I now beg pardon, penance and absolution (religious inclinations, again), which, I may guess, I will be given somewhere near in the future once my glucose level lowers.

But there is another thing I remembered and this wasn't that bad at all. Wedel's Pierrot - hung on the Christmas tree (which is pretty terribly [is it a beautiful oxymoron!] decorated due to my father's interventions) - came back after a few years of hiding behind the counter ;) and brought back the memories from my childhood and early adolescent. That was the period of time when I used to collect candy wrappers and the one of Pierrot gave me even a lap dance ;D (see the photo)
I kept them all in a photo album... It was as if I hadn't had any photos to keep (look at 'one tense back' rule... I did have some pictures ;)) I just must have considered it the most organised and meticulous way. Okey, all right, I was a bit reluctant to be taken photos of (Personality A: now my dear ex-friend I wouldn't be... Personality B: oh! shut up you weepy second half... sorry I have a split personality).

Anyway, this wrappers-collecting thing turned out to be a bit more useful than I had expected, since I could take part in a KFC contest for the best collector... I didn't win it... and I don't know why ;)

Food-upgrader

2009-12-11T21:52:00.011+01:00

'a sweet sticky yellow or brown substance produced by bees, used as food'

Is this how you call honey? Is this how you understate the drink of godesses? Oh, Mother of all that is good and pure! (Haven't there been too much pious inclinations in my writing lately?). I object. I wouldn't say sticky... I would say 'clinging' (honey needs somebody, too) and i would use neither yellow nor brown... I would feel tempted to use golden. And when it comes to 'substance' thing it just takes away the whole glamour. I would dare say a blessing.

'...used as food' is just an unsupported accusation. Honey is not food. Bread is a kind of food, a sausage is a kind of food, and even McDonald's white bread rolls are food, although I have no idea how come they deserve the name. Honey is a food-upgrader, it is what makes a meal, a dish, a snack better and push your food-based admiration to higher levels. A delicacy applicable in gastronomy, domestic medicine, and sexual performance ;)

But I must admit, I am not an expert on honey, I ma expert on indulging it. And I don't know all types of honey. But does it matter seeing that I love all of them?

terra.VITA

2009-11-14T16:59:00.015+01:00

Latin will tell you the truth. Chocolate is your life, your vie, your leben, your vida, your Vita! Either you already know it or you will get to know it soon. Verily, I say to you: the sooner, the better.
Those who are resistant and adamant - I pity you since you don't know what you are missing out on. Haven't you heard the golden thoughts which have been repeated for ages?
A chocolate a day keeps the doctor away
A chocolate in the mouth is worth two on the plate
Chocolate: Here today .... Gone today!
I, for one, wouldn't dare disobey the commands.

A pile I try to climb every day

So, here I am, a staunchest follower. And every day there's a bit of sunshine... bitter in taste but still... Hold on! But still?? Ungrateful me! Bitter in taste and sweetest in whims fulfilling. Bitter, bitter... makes me glitter!
Even the numbers say it is a righteous fellow traveller: 77% Cocoa and not a single gram less. And do you know how difficult it is to find a bitter chocolate which actually would be bitter? Amused as you may be, take a look at any bitter titbit and see that 46% Cocoa chocolate is not bitter but simply not-sweet. There is nothing worse than not-sweet chocolate that isn't bitter.

I try not to make my everyday pile of chocolate too high. Not that I couldn't climb it but sometimes there are some more healthy stuff to eat. Anyway, I never let a chocolate bar feel Natalia-forsaken. Not that it wouldn't forgive me, but I wouldn't forgive myself ;)

Ain't no sunshine when he's gone...

2009-10-24T21:10:00.013+02:00

... but there are pierogis!
whenever he is away (not necessarily FAR away... even 5 km would do) I feel as if time draged so slow. All of a sudden I see that one hour has as many as 60 minutes and it must be filled up. Too much time makes you think too much and, what comes from that, you start (or 'one starts' - as a practice of academic writing) thinking about doing things you are hopeless at. Cooking! ;) (we have agreed that it is Christovan who is going to be a cook at our home so I may openly admit... I am not much of a chef)
Unwilling to learn as I am, I still have a great talent and potential.

All in all, I learnt all by myself how to make them... during my exile in Great Britain. They are - as a native speaker once said - perfectly sealed as the ones in Harrod's - (if Harrod's has any... if not, that must be a sign of Heaven to visit London ;D)
Say what you wish but I put my soul into the work. Especially into the heart-shaped one ;) It gave me the willies as well. The first few seconds are always ok but then you get bored and feel like swearing the work off. I wouldn't be myself if I had given up in the middle of dirty table, floury blouse, and sticky hands.

Once I filled it with my soul... I let it to be eaten. Now I am short of soul and short of pierogis. And do I feel empty? Even if I do, this is the best feeling I have ever experienced in my life.
Nevertheless, for the time being I quit pierogi manufacture. Other undiscovered lands are waiting

Fit up... with the raspberry kiss in the raspberry cheek

2009-08-20T20:17:00.016+02:00

It's not a fruity joke, it's my fruity reward after the whole day of nuts and WASA eating.
A diet, a starvation period, a mental problem... call it whatever you like, I've just launched my healthy lifestyle campaign. It's not like I eat nothing, although some voracious carnivores (my Lion included ;*) are ready to say so seeing how little I consume (leave my small, poor stomach at peace!)

with an iced coffee in the background as a peripheral character... beautifully served, though

A good limit is not a bad one so I have cutted the amount of sugar and fat which means... Wait! Hold on for a sec... does it mean I am not allowed to indulge myself with any of the things I have mentioned so far at the blog? Let's think clearly. If I have mentioned the things it must mean I love them in a way... and if I love them and now I can't taste them then I'm screwed. And the ironic thing is I am the screwdriver in the flesh, my own worst enemy.
Bye bye chocolate (although not necessarily if you are dark with 70% cocoa content)
Adieu pizza, take care of my boy
Sajonara drinks (I won't miss PinaColada but her other sisters and brothers)
Hasta luego sweets

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississppi, four Mississippi...
Ok, let's not panic, I'm not going to live on sprouts and my raspberry cocktail is a proof of it. Glycemic index is low enough, fruit and milk are healthy and the mixture itself was delicious. In the heart of Leszno, with the view of the town hall and in a great (when it comes to size) and great-looking cup it didn't sound like a big sin. Quite the contrary, it was positively nutritious.
I feel much more healthy than I used to (can it be seen already? Can you tell from my raspberry-cheeked face?) and I bet I will persist in my resolution for a long time (with some small affairs with a cookie from time to time somewhen near holidays). Wish me good luck!
Signed: raspberry cheek

MozzaBella

2009-07-09T14:11:00.018+02:00

If laughter is contagious so is merry and if merry is love... we have omnipresent contagiousness.
and if the way to a man's heart is through his stomach so must be the way to a woman's heart (since analogy is politically correct)... and love towards pizza must affect both

So there I was, a 21-year-old smiling face unaware of nutritional values which were to be found only in a slice of pizza. For 21 whole years I had eaten as few as up to four pizzas (it gives me the creeps now, literally) and I wasn't malnourished at all. Since I got to know Christovan I have eaten 100 times as many.
So here I am, infected with pizzadoration by a guy suffering from chronic pizza deficiency, but - Heaven forbid - I am not complaining.

It takes salami, olives, mushrooms, pepper, and mozzarella to make you put on rose-tinted spectacles

And now I am constantly told that there can be nothing better than pizza and I am taught what's best about pizza, what meat's best for pizza and how come the mozzarella put on a slice of bread is worse than the one put on a slice of pizza, and that pizza deserves brand name cheese only.
I love the knowledge in a way... and I love when we just pop out to the shop for something sweet and we end up with a bag packed with all the ingredients for pizza.
Love it since it gives merry to my merry-giver pizza-lover... I'm infected so:
Ho ho ho, merry pizza

Caribbean nymph

2009-04-29T14:38:00.008+02:00

With a bar of chocolate instead of nectar in one hand and a drink instead of ambrosia in the other.
Since the drink fits neither here nor there I couldn't profane the name. So I came up with Pinolibu or Macolada, behind which names there's a two(three?)-layer substitute of a cup of tea. How long can you bore yourself with Lipton? (sorry Thomas, I really appreciate what you did to the world; plus one bag is enough for two... oh, you romantic bastard)

I must admit now, I am not a great fun of Pinacolada or her innovative cousin... but I like getting caught in the rain ;) (see: Rupert Holmes's lyrics)
Pinacolada with dark rum is even less Pinacoladish (what should be ok with me since I am not fond of it), but I didn't plan to make it so... the frige did.
Anyway, there were enough ingredients only for one/two(?).

Christovan (;*) objected to drinking it. No surprise... drink is not supposed to be sweet. Drink:
- is supposed to be juicy and refreshing;
- (What's more) is supposed to make you tipsy a bit.
This met neither of my requirements.
So why did I devote so much space to the Pineapple lady?
P.S. The eponymous Caribbean nymph is me.

Fizzy bubbles

2009-03-06T17:01:00.008+01:00

... makes me fizzy
a little bit busy
my head dizzy, dear Lizzy
tryin' not to be tizzy

My first doggerel is... sober. Wouldn't be able to produce any in a state of mumbling intoxication (would Szymborska be? Yyyy does she drink... ever?)

In nature, four grape icy blocks interconnect perfectly with semi-sweet grape mortar plaster.
Oh, yeah... we do can build ;D
Oh, no... we haven't build the relationship on champagne. Daddy said it doesn't glue well. He knows a thing or two(thousand).
Let me be mortar despite its poor name. I hate the idea I could be associated with the heaviness of blocks.

Oh, no... I don't need alcohol to cling to my bubble!

Words come so easy...

2008-08-06T10:22:00.012+02:00

Especially when given some ketchup and lousy garlic sauce ;) And although it wasn’t the most challenging and time-consuming action itself... the very idea was indeed. And although my right-from-the-bottom-of-the-heart inscription (which is - by the way - “Krzyś <3”)> can be hardly visible we both knew what I meant and enjoyed the most delicious birthday cake’s substitute (I wouldn’t have born three cakes). Della Casa may do as meat(y) is one of ingredients (who invented pizza without any kind of meat anyway?)… and (extra) sweetcorn was there for me.

Limited edition

I came up with it a month before (this is how excited I was about the thing). And since I hate trivial gifts (doesn’t trivial mean boring?) it had to be well-thought-out (especially when somebody adores pizza). It was to have had a birthday candle in the middle but sheepishly speaking I was too shy to do it in a(n) (empty) pizzeria (but he still had his birthday candle the day before).

NS suburban ;]

Woe betide you who thinks that was it. A birthday card and a black and white gift which happily fits him presented me in a favourable light even more.

Guess ;p

2008-07-31T10:53:00.005+02:00

My dearly beloved staple. Since ever. Seriously, more often I happen to believe I was simply born to live on chocolate. My biggest (right next to my remaining two others n. b. just as sweet as the character) love. Not that I am unaware of all those unhealthies (neologism, do not correct) I may encounter or I have so far. Well… love is blind.

Insight into my heart

The very one here comes from a wedding reception. A gift from cooks and to be perfectly honest chocolate fountain’s leftovers (how terrible a ‘leftovers’ word sounds in this context). A jar-packed prog? (in my case a jug would be appropriate… a bucket? ;))

Hold it tight

So my elaborate idea to fight (just a little bit) an addiction to sweets did not work out as I (must?) work on the chocolate now.