Äppelmos with vanilla and cinnamon

It was a little over a year ago; we’d brought home a mid-century secretary desk, the kind that received many layers of white paint over the years. It had a bookshelf, very much a happy mismatch of cookbooks, jars of kombucha, porcelain figurines, candles and notebooks. And two cupboards. The one of the right had draws made of birch reminiscent of an old map storage ...

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La rhubarbe

I remember the rhubarb my grand-père used to grow in the garden. It was thick and green; and would be turned into jar-after-jar of compote which my grand-mère always kept in that little cupboard in the garage. On top of my grand-père’s tools, always neatly organised. One day, I’ll show you that garage. We would eat the compote on top of yoghurt for breakfast. Or ...

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