J’adore Paris

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From the Pont des Arts.

Forget the padlocks on bridges and the Eiffel Tower. It’s all about the wine. Trust me on this.

Advice from the Chairman

I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.

~Frank Sinatra

 

Dino, Frank and a rip roaring good time courtesy of M. Remy Martin, Comrade Smirnoff and the good brothers J&B.  Photo courtesy norma-desmond-way

Dino, Frank and a rip roaring good time courtesy of M. Remy Martin, Comrade Smirnoff and the good brothers J&B.
Photo courtesy norma-desmond-way

Why I love Brooklyn…

…and why I had to leave

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And just in case you are wondering, good fences DO make good neighbors. Even in the people’s paradise of San Francisco.

 

But ya are Blanche, ya ARE in the chair!

Thought for the day:

It seems to me that the aging process presents only two viable options to the high-strung, outgoing creative type, namely, either to mellow or surrender to the temptation to go all Bette Davis in the later years. Having recently relocated from New York to San Francisco, I’m working on getting my cool on, but I must admit it’s a struggle.

So which will it be, folks, battle the madness or start coloring outside the lines with my lipstick as we roll on into crazy town?

I think you know. I think we all do.

Nigella: You knew it would come to this sooner or later

WSW:

Another oldie but goodie. Bear with me folks. I’m relocating, and moving house is not as easy as it used to be.

Originally posted on Kitchen Slattern:

Love her or hate her, Miss Lawson is for many the original short-cut taking, taste-as-you-go then eat-with-abandon kitchen slattern, and for that alone I will always be a fan. I stumbled upon Nigella Bites in 2001 and loved the show’s clever editing, Nigella’s girlfriend-y chatter and her refreshingly relaxed approach to both cooking and eating.

Over the years, however, as the domestic goddess juggernaut picked up steam, I began to feel a creeping unease, and by the time we got to Nigella Express in 2007, the experience of watching her cook had begun to make me squirm, and not in a good way. With adjectives multiplying like randy bunnies and the chatter taking on a, how shall I say, slightly overheated feel, the experience became more than I could reasonably endure, at least without a partner.

Witness the foreplay for a chocolate raspberry pavlova recipe:

“You just cannot beat a

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