It seems we made brownies. Yes those brownies.

In between sleeping on the beach, sipping through Pastis glasses, finding a name for the small pâtisserie I will own – one day – in France, buying heaps of vintage things at a vide-grenier, and spending time with my favourite person in the world – namely, my sister.

And well, the brownies are as good as ever. So please, if you haven’t done so yet, run to your kitchen and make a batch.
And keep in mind you can switch caster sugar for demerara or light brown. As delicious, and perhaps even better.

Now, I’m rushing to pack my suitcase as I’m heading on the west side.

But stay still, I have two recipes with apple coming – as in terrine of baked apple, some crisp cinnamon crumble, and an apple and walnut strudel – and one with white chocolate.

Who said autumn is just around the corner? I do think it’s time to forgive the winter. Soon.

In my world, nothing matches the happiness of being in love. As a matter of fact, I love being in love. The goosebumps, the thrill, the excitement.

Nothing. Except, perhaps, the development process of a new pâtisserie. It starts with an idea, jotted down in a small notebook. Always the same black leather bound. Always the same felt tip pen.

And then, I get dirty. Taste. And adjust.

Most of the times, it’s far from perfect. But despite being the entremet girl that I am, I still feel that rush whenever I manage to come up with something that doesn’t look like a stack of sponge, mousse and intérieur.

I like to call it minimalism. When in fact, it’s just the result of my inability to decompose and arrange on a plate.

The latest victim was a lovely white chocolate and honey sponge with poached apricots and a quenelle of pistachio ice-cream. And trust me, it tasted pretty damn fine.

So I plan to share the recipe. And rant about how I wish I was better at making desserts look pretty. As soon as I will have caught up with my bed. I miss it. So.

It would probably be an understatement to say that I am messy.

For years, my absolutely organised mum fought with me, not understanding why I had to keep pretty much all of my belongings on my desk, or at worst, around my bed.

For years, I did not understand how – despite being raised by someone so tidy – I would always end up with so much stuff lying on the floor. And then, it struck me. I simply like to have my most cherished possessions close to me. I like to be able to see them at any given time. I like to nest in my own comforting world.

This eureka-moment had no effect on my paradoxical messiness. In fact, as I’m writing this, I’m surrounded by two cameras, a photo album, a bowl of edamame beans, and a neat pile of notebooks.

Yes, neat.

As messy as I can be, I have this strange thing with notebooks.
It started at school, where I would always have the prettiest ones; colour-coded, written using the exact same pen, and no ratures. I’ve even been spotted copying out one of my biology class notebooks because it didn’t feel prefect enough.
Then came pâtisserie kitchens and moleskines stained with chocolate. And yet, when you open them, overlooking the smears, you’ll notice only that one felt tip pen touched the pages (ask the guys at the hotel and they will tell you how angry I get if my pen gets stolen).

Now turn the pages, and see that drawing of a square tart filled with a liquorish-like treacle flan, topped with grenadine-marinated oranges and a square of white chocolate.

It’s the starting point of an endless excitement. Making pastries all day is a favourite. Creating pastries all day is the most favourite.

Right now, I’m developing some very fine French pâtisseries for the book I’m working on. But I’m also playing around in the kitchen just for foodbeam. And it feels so nice.
I can’t promise daily recipes here, although I will make my best to come up with new exciting things if I’m not spending my days off exploring London for the best places to eat, or have a bubble tea, or some macarons.

Yes, I’m totally keeping tracks of my London favourites there. It’s – almost – all film pretty (I love London, and I love my Pentax ME Super even more).

Treacle tart et oranges sanguines à la grenadine

I’m calling this treacle tart although it’s really not a genuine treacle tart, but more of a treacle syrup flan encased in a tart shell.

Just so you know, I used small square rings (6,5cm-wide) which are quite high (3cm) so I could get more filling than crust. If you’re going to use regular tart rings, you’ll have enough flan to fill four tarts shells. Just adjust the quantity of pâte sucrée (around 300g), marinated oranges, and white chocolate squares (or in this case, circles).