Although not fond of chains, we welcome the invitation of the phantasmagoric Isadora omfalocucine and present one of the two (my colleague Feather and could imitate the post titled "Bread, and Vinegar fantasy. "yes, I know it's horrible).
The kitchen was a bit 'the heart of every apartment in which I lived. I tend to make us the nest, perhaps because they cook for me has always been a way to tie myself to others. I love to pamper my friends preparing their favorite dishes, I let my taste dishes (chicken with coriander, the risotto cake fake Cuban or pear and chocolate) only those loooong special and leave just a chosen few to attend preparatory spells, ça va sans dire.
Since there's bigwigs, spignatto much less. Or rather, I still do, but in a much more frugal and organized. But the golden age will return (I'm with Virgil and his cyclical view of history) and I will begin again to take all for the throat (not only for i. .. cookers).
Because without her I could not open my eyes, the ride starts from Natalina
dring the last gift. It makes a dense, frothy coffee, which I drink in the morning and very dark during the day and evening, sometimes with lemon peel and a dash of cinnamon, as a friend of ours has taught us the Canary Islands. Then another friend
inseparable: the Thermomix
tritatagliafrullaimpasta gift of mother-in-law (I often wonder if those with Gift wants to insinuate anything, but I guess not. That is, I hope). Indispensable tool in the early months of the bigwigs. Not now, he prefers to suck the bones of the ribs. An overview of
' kitchenette
Unfortunately the picture quality is poor and the red Ferrari appears to give the rose. But I assure you, when I open the fridge (below immortalized next to the removable piece that we call infamous column )
you hear a nice wroooooom and appetite is raging.
The tour ends in the preferred Pulcinea and bigwigs, which increasingly has a mouth full of crunchy chicken
not pass the ball to anyone. The launch in the air, and those who want to take it (I'm only sorry that Barbchen not have a blog, because I would see the happy lambertìde stretched in action).
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