Cherry Clafouti


Clafouti is another French dessert that is surprisingly easy to make. I’m discovering that when using fresh fruit, not a lot more needs to be done. I do think I’ve slowly going to devolve to just serving up fresh fruit on its own like it’s a major treat … because, in fact, it is, as well as being a little bit kinder to my figure. Over the past month or so, those pounds I was so pleased I had lost have been creeping back on. In large part, I suspect, due to the amount of sweets I’ve been making. Anyone want to come over and take my baking off my hands?

Until that actually happens, though, I’m going to keep on baking up these goods because it’s both fun and delicious. Because I keep on buying cartons full of fruit instead of a manageable amount like a normal person, I had too many cherries, the perfect problem to have. This dessert was really vanilla-y because I used powdered vanilla instead of liquid, but I ended up REALLY liking it. Also, I think it’s rather gorgeous.
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Chamonix-Mont Blanc


One of the things that excited me the most about moving to Geneva was all the travel that we’d be able to do. Europe is so rich in places to visit and experience, but it’s difficult to get here from Western Canada. Usually if you do go, it’s for either a short time where you can either see many places superficially, or spending that time becoming familiar with one place only. But once you’re located in here, countries open up to you.

However, Z has been really busy getting settled in his job, I’ve been really busy getting settled in our house, and X is just plain really busy no matter what he’s doing. I was starting to get a little disappointed, as we’ve explored the surrounding countries less than I expected (although it hasn’t been four months, so clearly my expectations might be slightly aggressive). But we’re working on it, with more plans to visit nearby areas. We are located so that we can make day trips into Switzerland, France or Italy, without really having to stretch our time or budget. It’s quite fantastic.
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Amaretto improves everything and becoming a country girl

I have spent my life pretty much as a city girl. If you’re from Europe, you will apparently find that hard to believe, because whenever I tell someone here that I’m from Canada, the universal response is: you must think it’s so busy and cosmopolitan here in the city! Now, Geneva is a beautiful city, but it’s not particularly big or bustling. When I respond that I came from a city about ten times the size of Geneva, they get all confused. Then, there’s a momentary relief as they ask: Toronto?

No, not Toronto. It seems that to outsiders, Canada is either full of nothing but fields, or Toronto. That’s it. Actually, I’m exaggerating. All the French know about Montreal too. But I do find it funny that I’m basically cast as girl from the country. I’ve spent my life in cities, or the suburbs, which is almost FURTHER from actual country life. So I’m still amazed nowadays when traffic gets tied up down the block because a thresher* is positioning itself on the road.


*I don’t know if this is the thresher. It’s just that it’s one of the only farm terms I have heard of but do not understand.
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Exploring Geneva: tomato parties and alpenhorns

It’s been three months and I still can’t believe I get to live in a beautiful, European city, a destination for many and a truly international location. I have been noticing we’re getting more comfortable in our adopted city, and are behaving less like tourists and more like locals. We attend local festivals, we go to the cheap supermarkets, we are starting to figure out where the freshest food is located (still around the corner at the local farm – Marche de la ferme, Veyrier).

I thought I’d start sharing with you some of our interesting finds in Geneva, in terms of restaurants, shops and events, as well as some of our travels that are taking us around Europe. For a starters, this past weekend we went to the fete de la tomate, which translates to The Tomato Party.

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Book reviews

Well here’s an eclectic mix. I was so depressed after reading Hannah Kent’s Burial Rites that I needed to read something a lot fluffier. As luck would have it, just when I was looking over my stack of entirely-too-serious books, I received a birthday package in the mail, which included Sophie Kinsella’s newest novel, Wedding Night. I’ve mentioned before that I read one of her novels on a previous birthday, so it seemed only fitting that I dive into that one as I turned thirty-cough.

Then it was right back into the serious ones, but I was back in a place where I could be challenged a bit by my reading. So here’s an update on what I’ve been reading:

Wedding Night, by Sophie Kinsella

Book description: Lottie just knows that her boyfriend is going to propose, but then his big question involves a trip abroad—not a trip down the aisle. Completely crushed, Lottie reconnects with an old flame, and they decide to take drastic action. No dates, no moving in together, they’ll just get married . . . right now. Her sister, Fliss, thinks Lottie is making a terrible mistake, and will do anything to stop her. But Lottie is determined to say “I do,” for better, or for worse.
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So many apricots


I’m finally starting to see the downside of being surrounded by really good, local produce. Yes, the fruits and vegetables are plentiful here, and they all taste amazing. However, you are a little bit limited in what it is you can get. I found this out the hard way last week when I went to make white chocolate covered strawberries for Canada Day. The only strawberries I could find were one pint of beyond ripe berries, that rotted before I had a chance to eat them. Boo.

Also, Z had requested the delicious smoked salmon asparagus pasta for his birthday dinner – only there is no more asparagus. I finally found some at a specialty store, but they weren’t as good as what we were eating a month ago. In Calgary, I could get any fruit or vegetable I wanted – only nothing tasted particularly good.

The other side of it is when something is in season, there is a lot of it. Like, a lot. I recently experienced an overwhelming abundance of apricots. Since I have a newfound love affair, I bought a tub of the stuff going for pennies apiece. Just the next day, a neighbour brought over a bag of even more apricots. And when I say a bag, I mean like a plastic grocery bag filled to the brim. We had at least 60 apricots, all ripe and in danger of rotting.
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Beauty Alchemy: Oil Cleansing Method


I recently read an article about why you should move to a new city by yourself when you’re in your twenties. Most of the article didn’t apply to me, since I’m no longer in my twenties and am hardly alone. Mainly it was about finding yourself, challenging yourself, helping you see all you are able to do and learning more about the world. All good things. The one thing that stuck out for me was that it offered an opportunity to change your look: you could get a crazy hairstyle or piercing and nobody is going to question or judge you, because they don’t know you.

My twenties were certainly the time for me to try out crazy hairstyles, but I realize I’m taking advantage of the being able to change your look thing over here in Geneva, with my new naturally inclined beauty regime. For the most part, it’s because there’s no one I know who’s going to comment “dear god, what happened to your hair,” but I feel totally fine wandering around with my messy dirty hair. I’ve even started to go makeup free. People who know me might think this is crazy – I used to never to ANYWHERE without makeup. Like, run to the corner store for milk? Just let me get my concealer and mascara. But now, I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to matter as much, I guess. Maybe it’s just because I don’t really have any time to do my makeup.

So, next up in my natural beauty regime is for the face. When I first heard about the oil cleansing method (OCM), I thought it was nuts. The principle: washing your face with oil instead of cleanser. I have always struggled with breakouts, so the idea of rubbing oil onto my face seemed so counterproductive as to be absurd.
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