The house smells like mulled wine. Fairy-lights have been plugged. Cookies have been sent in a jar. A wreath has been hung at the door.

It really start to feel like Christmas around here.

We’re only missing a tree and perhaps, a dinner back home, with our families. But hopefully, one of those will come true next week if I find the courage and super-powers to carry a Christmas tree back home.

And while I’m on the subject, anyone knows where to find one around Clapham?

I definitely wouldn’t want to miss on this tradition. Ever so more that I’m already eight-day late on this.
At my home – the one in France – we always decorate the tree on the very first day of the month. Then the presents start piling up as they are bought.

At night, we watch movies, while sipping through a green tea for me, or camomile for my mum and sister, and a (cold) coffee for my dad.

During the day, we bake. Christmas cake, brownies, and cookies. My mum also makes the best pain d’épices, while my sister writes the labels for the jars to be sent.

Jars filled with flour, light brown sugar, chocolate chunks, nuts. And perhaps, mostly filled with love.

They’re so easy to make. And you can be certain they always please. So there you have them: cookies in a jar, with a new 2010 addition: crushed pretzels. Because, deep inside, I think that your heart looks like a pretzel.

This year, I’ve used those beautiful jars from Jme.

But really, you could use any recipe you like. Just make sure the total content fits your jar and leave out the butter and eggs for the lucky recipient to add.

I know I probably didn’t make much sense the last time we chatted – or well, I posted – , but there is one thing you guys got. The bûches de Noël manifesto.

And yes, it hasn’t come yet. I’ve been way to busy with – actually – making the bûches and other entremets. But also with a very exciting project my best friend – Anna-Sarah – and I are working on.

Let me happily introduce you to la moustache, a small design workshop.

We now have a little blog and soon a shop will follow. I hope you’ll like it at least as much as we do – needless to say we are thrilled. So as off right now, I shall get some pretty things (illustration, stitching and more) ready for the big launch; but I promise I’ll be back in a day or two with the bûches.

Happy 2009!

I now have an online portfolio to display some of my pictures and crafty projects. Please do check it, you’ll make me super*happy.

PS. I know it’s cheaply coded in dirty html, but damn, it was 4am!

Edit (january 2010): my portfolio is now heeeere. Less dirty coding, more pictures.

The project is called onecube. From today and for as long as I can, I’ll be creating something new everyday – whether it is a drawing, a picture, a sculpture, a cake – and record it on je suis une cacahuète, my inspiration blog.

I would love you to join the fun, so if you want to feel happy and creative, just start making pretty things or writing pretty words; not so pretty pretties are also more than welcome.

And if you do happen to take part and want a logo, just email me, I have many available colours – just seems I was in a citrusy mood today.

My first creation was a lovely notecard; one shoe, a golden shoestring, and some sweet words: “I will lace your shoes”.

They asked me to tell you guys – Jen (love you girl), Hélène and Hannah, Anita, Peabody, Ivonne, Lisa and Mary – that they arrived, safe and sound.

Here is their story.

Michel and his terrific movies. Bruno and his delicious goat cheese. Gaspard and his pretty face. Pierre and his outstanding pâtisseries. These are some of the not so many things that make me realise I’m not that damned to be French.

Le Neuf definitely isn’t one of them. For you who are lucky enough not to know what Le Neuf is, well let me explain. Le Neuf describes itself as one of the best internet access providers, which certainly does sound appealing.
I seem to have forgotten something crucial here though. I just moved flats, and ended in the smallest town ever with only two television channels, no internet but a cheeringly well-equipped kitchen and a sewing machine. Okay, so now you know the basic facts, let’s go back to Le Neuf.
At first, me and Le Neuf got on very well. Free phone calls, high speed internet connection and more than that, I didn’t have to make a call – you know those awfully expensive zero-huit-cent-something numbers, which charge you around three Kitchen Aid stand-mixers per minute, including the minutes you spend waiting and trying to ignore the terrible music. They said they would call me.

If you’re anything like me, I guess we should stop blathering for a sec and grasp the genuine meaning of my last sentence. They said they would call me. I mean: whoa. Quite evidently, I filled in the form that asked for my name and telephone number. And waited. That long Saturday afternoon I spent waiting somewhat reminded me of that other afternoon, back in the 90s. But that’s another story. Anyway, as you might have guessed, Le Neuf never called. Or at least not until today, just to tell me I wouldn’t receive the preciously waited for Neufbox until two of three weeks.

Yeah that’s right, two or three. Not the same in my book, but well, Le Neuf doesn’t seem to be as organised as I am, and while I’ll not so patiently wait for the package to arrive, you can be sure my flat will continue to get filled with beautiful fabric telephones and just-like-in-your-dreams cakes.

Petits gâteaux comme des nuages à la farine semi-complète et à la banane

I love those little cakes. Their fragrant perfume and wholesome roughness. They make you fully realise what an oven is made for.
And their even better the next day: just wrap them in cling film as soon as they’re at room temperature and they’ll make your breakfast a feast.
Trust me; I’m thankful to have written the quantities down, as I usually don’t do when making cake for no special occasion. Those definitely are great. The crumb is quite dense, just like you would expect from a banana cake, yet in a subtle way.
Plus, they’re good for you: lots of fibre and good sugars.

Sometimes, our lives get so busy that we forget about how beautiful it is to live; and we can’t even see the lovely things that surround us.
Call it the side effect of our super-exciting way-of-life full of crazy experiments and adventures; I just think it’s sad and find necessary to take a break from time to time to admire all the random petites choses that I usually disregard. It is a fantastic feeling when you realise how so little can make you so happy.

Today, I didn’t have one – but three – of these wonderful moments. The ones that truly matter.
The first one occurred around 4.38am. As I was quietly sleeping, I started hearing what is, to me, a divine sound. Raindrops were softly hitting my window, making for the most superb orchestra concert you could ever dream of. Covered with a huge pile of fluffy duvet covers, I coudn’t imagine a more beautiful place to be.

Then, around 7.50am, as I opened my mailbox, I found a package. It came from my favourite girl. Ever. She’s been my friend for years, introduced me to plastic-bottle-biting and tiny fake pastries. Une fille en forme de fée. She made a small felt pochette [pouch] with apparent stitches. And when I finally got the chance to tell her how happy it made me, we couldn’t help but talk about food. I’m sure they’ll be some good times ahead. I just can’t wait to see her and organise a chic dinner for New Year’s eve. Je t’aime fort mon petit pasteis.

That last *blissful*moment* is happening right now: a laptop on my legs and a chocolate malted whooper drop in my hand.
When I made Dorie’s recipe, I knew it would be good. I mean, have you ever found Dorie’s recipe to be lacking of anything? I haven’t, and suspect that nobody ever has. She is one of those people who make you feel instantly cosy, whether you’re having tea with her or just reading of her books. That’s why everyone loves her. But more than that, her recipes are terrific and always work. Thank you Dorie for making my day special.

Cookies au chocolat et aux maltesers
Adapted from Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: from my home to yours.

Maltesers are the European version of Whoopers and trust me, they’re very yummy. So imagine how wonderful they are when combined with a moist malted chocolate cookie dough and chunks of milk chocolate.

These are some great cookies – or as Dorie calls them -, drops and will make everyone happy. The maltesers had some crunch to an otherwise smooth and fudgy biscuit.
The dough almost has the same texture than frosting and to make things easy, you just have to spoon and drop it onto your lined baking sheet.

I decided to slightly underbake my cookies (10 minutes instead of the suggested 12). Well, the girl likes her dough raw.

As if baking and making pastries wasn’t enough, I just discovered myself a new addiction – polymer clay.
Now, instead of waiting for the baked-goods to come out of the oven doing nothing, I take out my small box full of pâte fimo and start making more pastries. Fake ones, this time!
I simply adore it – relaxing and brain-tickling, not to mention damn cute!