Twenty-three days after I started writing here daily to celebrate the upcoming holiday, I have a confession to make.

A lot of words have been left unspoken, a lot of pictures have been left unseen, a lot of recipes have been left unshared. Mostly because life, love and kitchens have gotten in the way.

And yes, I will admit it, the occasional champagne glass too.

As you may know, I will be spend my Christmas day feeding other people. From the kitchen. In quite a traditional way, with Christmas pudding and all the trimmings, and mince pies.

And I will spend my nights are the hotel, because London likes to stop time – and transport – on this very special day.

So I won’t be able to talk to you before a few days.

In the meantime, I wish all of you the best Christmas ever. With your loved ones, good food, and fairy-lights. x

I believe that some things are bound to happen. Things like a major failure.

A failure that shows that wine might be good in your risotto, but not in your glass when baking.

A failure that makes those red macarons – kept in the freezer for a couple of weeks – quite helpful. Even though they don’t really belong here, on a taste point of view.

But as my Pentax taught me, failures can be good. Because we shared the trimmings, but also because it involves mascarpone, Tahitian vanilla, confiture de lait, roast banana, and milk chocolate.

It was a day before the winter solstice. The service finished late. But we quickly threw our whites to the piling laundry, only to venture into the real white.

The wild white.

Many glasses of champagne later, we went home. I slipped twice. He couldn’t stop laughing. He slipped once. I burst into tears; of the happy kind.

Warm and scarfless. He took my hat off. My hair was electric.

We had a couple of peanut butter fudges. And had a race to bed. I won, because he always lets me to. We fell asleep without brushing our teeth.

And somehow, I’m still amazed about how it’s sometimes the smallest details that matter the most.

Those fudge squares, even if they’ve already been made three of four times in the past, will – from now on – remind me about that night. The night when autumn turned into winter. And the snow into rain.

And rather evidently, the night I forgot about my advent calendar. Blame the champagne for this.

But I’m making up for this. Today. With little squares so good that lovers would choose to eat them before they even got a chance to kiss.

Fudge au beurre de cacahuètes
Adapted from Sophie Dahl.

Those are sweet. Too sweet for some, perfect for the rest of us. I like to use crunchy peanut butter for the texture. And I’m almost certain they would make a lovely gift, if wrapped into pretty paper.

I cut mine into 4×4cm squares, but you could as well make smaller cubes for an guiltless treat.

It might be my very own wish-list, but I’m pretty sure you know someone who loves capturing the everyday through a camera. Happy shopping (only two weeks to go!).

A little album. To store all your polaroids and instax minis, on ebay.
A beautiful print by my favourite photographer. To remember, at etsy.
A cute diana F+ camera with an instax mini back. For party fun, at lomography.
A cherished mamiya universal with a 100mm f/3.5 lens and a polaroid back. For life, on ebay.
A small calendar for the year to come. For taking the time to see the days replace days, at etsy.
A gorgeous strap. For tokyo dreams, on photojojo.
A simple but clever camera bag. For your loves and more, at kelly moore.
A few pack of instant film. To win against the impossible.
And some kodak spectra. Just because one can never have enough of it.

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.

Snow can fool us into believe winter is here. When really it’s not.

And even after it came and went, the sharp winds still  gives us goosebumps no matter how many layers of mittens, hats and scarves we’re wearing.

I’ve found a relief in the shape of a hot bowl of soup.

Slightly spicy, full of flavour, and damn good.

So good in fact, that I’ve made it four times in just a short eight days. Just when the sun goes down, my flat starts to smell of ginger and lemongrass.

Evidently, it’s always too dark to take a picture. But, who needs it anyway. You have my promise.

Make this – or as a matter of fact, any of the listed things below (which I see as a winter edition of my culinary obsessions chronicle). And feel better. Warmer. And possibly, happier.

Oh and while I’m at it, I’m wondering what are the foods that help you make it through winter? Please tell me. We can never have enough comfort in our kitchens.

And for the record, I realise it’s technically still autumn, but my frozen cheeks tell me it feels like winter. Hope you stick with me on this one.

One. Thai chicken soup. Grab a couple of chicken thighs, with all the trimmings: bone, skin and organic. Pan fry the chicken, skin-side down until golden, flip around and deglaze with a litre of water and a mini-can of coconut cream.
Add two spoonful of sweet chilli sauce, a dash of toasted sesame oil, and soy sauce. Squeeze the juice from one lemon, and bring to the boil. In the meantime, roughly chop the soft end of a lemongrass stick and grate a fat piece of ginger. Add o the soup. Simmer for 20 minutes. Remove the chicken thighs; then using two forks, shred the meat from the bones and skin. Place back into the pan and add a handful of each: frozen peas, rocket, and rice noodles. Divide in between two bowls, and top with chopped red chilli peppers, two sliced spring onions and fresh coriander. Eat with a spoon when still piping hot. Preferably with good company and a movie.

Two. Eggnog lattes. Be lazy and go to the closest starbucks. Order a venti eggnog latte. And burn your tongue while drinking it. Or make it at home. Bring 250g of milk to the boil along with 2 cinnamon sticks, a couple of cardamom pods and a little grated nutmeg. Add a dash of vanilla extract, the one with the seeds. In a bowl, mix 2 eggs yolks with 50g of caster sugar. Strain the boiling milk onto the eggs, mixing as you do so. Then place the bowl over a pan of simmering water and cook, stiring all the time until the anglaise reaches 84°C. Add a double shot of espresso or a heaped teaspoon of your favourite instant coffee. Drink. From the comfort of your own home. And perhaps, with a dash or two of rhum.

Three. Roast garlic. Preheat the oven to 200°C. Line a baking tray with foil. Take four heads of garlic and chop their top off by a centimetre or two. Place on the prepared baking tray. Drizzle with oil and season with Maldon sea salt. Cover loosely with foil and bake for 40 minutes. Make sure you have some bread close by.

Four. Gü chocolate banoffee. Walk to your kitchen. Open the fridge and reach the black Gü chocolate banoffee package. Open with your hands. Grab a spoon, preferably small. Lift the foild cover away. Eat the chocolate layer first. Then sink your spoon into the goo. And wonder if they’re is anything sweeter – literally and figuratively – in this world. Don’t even think about having the second one.

Five. Molly’s waffles. Before you go to bed, visit Molly. Read her words. Fell in love and in hunger. Then make the recipe. The first one, Marion Cunningham’s raised waffles. Except, switch the dry yeast for 5g of fresh yeast. Because your heart tells you to. Sleep. Wake up half and hour before your alarm goes off. Cook the waffles. And eat plain, thinking about sending Molly a thank you note later.

Thank you Molly. x

This cupcake and I, we had quite a day.

Everything felt just fine, until I grabbed the vintage container filled with flour wondering whether it was plain or strong. The lid was orange. And somehow, it seemed evident that this was the high-gluten stuff.
So I reached the other container at the back. The brown one.

I rubbed the sugar into the butter. Added seeds from one vanilla pod and one egg. Mixed a little. Folded the flour and baking powder in. And the final touch of milk.
A recipe I love and use everytime cupcakes are needed.

Seventeen minutes later, I was happily befriending with twelve cupcake-wannabe pancakes. They were cute. They tasted delicious. They were more than slightly gummy.

So here is a written note for myself, which should be read in case of doubt.

And then, I made it again. With the right flour. Plain, for the record. The batter was spooned – not piped – because it would later be baked in a tiny gas oven.

Home, my friends, the place where imperfection has a sole right – and possibly, obligation – to live and exist.
While we’re at it, I must show you the aftermath. I love green tea. Everywhere.

Eventually, I wiped the green off my counter. Warmed up a cup of milk. Put some music on. And sat with a book, a mug of hot matcha latte, and a cupcake.

It was still snowing outdoors. And the wind could be heard, with the sound of branches.

Yet another perfect winter moment.

Cupcakes au thé matcha
Adapted from the Hummingbird Bakery cookbook.

There are many many things I like about those cupcakes. The fact that taste absolutely delicious definitely one of them. But to be honest, what I love the most is how easy they are to put together.

Five minutes of mixing. All in one bowl. Seventeen minutes of baking. Two minutes to make the frosting. A short pause for the cupcakes to cool down. And finally the frosting, perhaps ten minutes.

And while we’re at it, you should know I will explain you how to frost cupcakes quickly, without a piping bag, in tomorrow’s post. A simple palette knife or even a butter knife, are more than enough.

If your frosting feels a bit too thick, just add a tad more milk, until it has the perfect creamy texture – firm enough to hold, but smooth enough to be spread.

It’s certainly no exaggeration to say that, no matter how we looked forward to it, winter has swallowed us with its thick coat of snow.

One morning, the temperatures feel a little cold, but the golden leaves we’ve come to love still cover the pavement. And the next day, without a notice, they’re gone.

Or perhaps more accurately, they’re hidden.

It’s been snowing for the past twenty-four hours here in London. And I feel lucky I don’t have to leave the comfort of my home.

Sure, I thought about going for a walk, and possibly make a snowman with friends.

But to be honest, this reassuring sensation of cosiness is one of the things I love the most about winter.

It’s definitely the one season during which I want to indulge.

With baths so hot they almost burn my skin, bread eaten straight from the oven, afternoons spent on the sofa with a good friend, or a chocolate pot de crème eaten way past my bed-time.

Petits pots de crème au chocolat

This is the perfect recipe for long winter nights.
You can make it one day ahead, and in fact, it’s more than advised. This way, the custard has plenty of time to chill and set into a firm silky crème.

The recipe, originally for crème brulée, was suggested by Elliot for one of our set lunch dessert. That week, we caramelised the top and served it with a banana sorbet and a peanut diplomate cream.

It was lovely. Very lovely in fact. But those pots de crème are just as delicious, except in a simpler way.

Right now, it’s dark outside. And it’s cold. So cold. From my bed, I can’t help but gaze through the window, only to spot the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Twirling snowflakes.

They remind me of that part from Fantasia. The four seasons. It was my favourite.

Right now, our home feels warm. And has that scent only a christmas tree can offer. It’s intoxicating. Like a concentrate of winter holidays.

Tonight, I’ll fall asleep quickly. Cosily wrapped in my thick duvet. Ready for december – and perhaps, even more for Christmas – to happen.

And you should to. Because from tomorrow, you’ll find a daily surprise on foodbeam. It will be like opening the box of the cardboard calendrier de l’avent [advent calendar] you used to have as a child.
Except you won’t be able to eat all the chocolates at once (which inevitably resulted in hours spent closing each lid with the meticulous precision required for your maman not to find out). But I hear longing makes things better.

Today is the first. Let the fun begin.

It all started this past Wednesday. My first day off in a while.

And quite coincidentally, the day before Christmas Eve.

And quite coincidentally, I didn’t realise this until I spotted the big 23 on my wall clock as I woke up seconds before noon.

Lunch on granola. Quickest shower. Legging, sweater and UGG boots on. Brisk walk to High Street Kensington through Holland Park. Whole Foods.

There I got everything we needed to celebrate Christmas in the most proper way.

Here is our menu for Christmas day:
- homemade blinis with crème fraiche and Scottish salmon
- honey and wholegrain mustard roast pork with crisp potatoes
- selection of French cheeses with homemade focaccia
- banana cream pie with a chocolate mousse quenelle

And, lots of Champagne!

We’re going to party like there is no tomorrow since it’s the first time – for the both of us – that we are away from our families during the holidays.

If things go well, expect to see a small banana cream pie around over the next few days.

Happy Christmas. All my love. x fanny.