How "Exciting"!

I work with some lovely people, who like to share lovely things.  Over the holidays, one of these people was kind enough to share some lovely....well, thanks to these quotations we're not quite sure what they were.  All I know is that there was a box in the kitchen with this note tacked to it.  I also know that I snapped a photo of it, sent it to Michael, and then to one of my now-favorite blogs, The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotations .

And to my surprise, it made it on to the website! Here it is...as well as a quick shot below. Sorry George!

Macarons!

Happy New Year! 

I write this post from the comfort of the crane that now lifts me off the couch and deposits me into bed on a daily basis. Such is the product of my holiday activities (or rather, lack thereof), and of my inability to say no to anything sweet. Once, I ate something off the floor not knowing what it was. But that was in 2008, many resolutions ago. (It smelled really good though, and to put mystery to rest, I've decided it was a piece of chocolate cake.)  All shame aside, I did achieve something very exciting and, hopefully, impressive over these holidays: I made my very first macarons!  No, not the pile of coconut mush wrapped in dingy plastic and sold at gas stations, but the Parisian perfection I first sampled when spending a week in the city of love.  I started with a recipe I got from the LCBO Food &Wine magazine, but it failed me many times and I would strongly recommend against using it. Five attempts and many wasted egg whites later, I went online, combined five different recipes, and finally settled on one I followed in Spanish. The results were fabulous, but because of all the switching around, I literally cannot repeat the recipe ever again.  So I created one of my own, as follows. I can't promise these ingredients and preparation method will yield results identical to mine, but what I can promise is that each part was, in fact, a part of my personal experience.

Recipe for Macarons

Ingredients:

1 cup of broken promises, sifted

1 melted spatula

1 broken hand mixer

1/2 a hand, burned

3 meters of black and white tiled floor, covered in ground almond

1-2 family members, unwilling to come near you

4.5 swear words, gently mixed into uncontrollable fits of anger 

1 bowl full of completely assembled meringue mix, thrown swiftly against the wall due to eggs' unwillingness to rise

Directions: 

Mix all ingredients, except last.  Notice ingredients will not mix the way recipe promises they will. Throw ingredients down the drain. Realize you have now spent more on batter than you would've on a box of macarons. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.  Top with last ingredient.

Makes: 

Life seem surreal, when, by the third night, you're no longer sure if you've said "kitten" or "kitchen".

From the top: Chocolate Fleur de Sel, Pistachio, Gingerbread Spice

The cutest little presents!

The most tired I've been in years

Lanvin for H&M

A few weeks ago I woke up at 4 am and drove to Montreal for the unveiling of Lanvin for H&M.  The store opened at 8 am, and upon arriving I noticed an already-snaking line.  Shoving silly hand warmers into my mitts, I fought off the crisp, dark cold, and passed the hours criticizing my fellow consumers. In front of me was a fully grown man who arrived with his mother, whom he sent on a coffee run just minutes before the doors opened.  Behind me was a clan of plus-sized pretty boys bragging about how much they were going to buy.  We were given bracelets displaying the time frame in which we were allowed to enter the women's Lanvin area, while the men's section was open to everyone as of 8 am.  When the clock struck eight, and the doors opened, I began to question my understanding of humanity.  Men, shoving women out of the way, clambered up a downwards escalator, racing each other to the silk ties and leather loafers.  Though the pretty boys had been standing behind us for the past couple of hours, they were somehow already upstairs by the time I politely jogged my way up. 

The dresses were gorgeous, without a doubt, but surprisingly, they were not very flattering. I tried on a pink frilly number, and was told I resemble a cupcake.  Then I was told that's not a good thing. 

So, I settled on a pair of gorgeous burlesque-ish red pumps, heels encrusted in rhinestones, and a pink chandelier necklace. Now I just need the right outfit for them. 

The most exciting shopping bag!

My vintage faux fur coat makes a brilliant comeback..

Ignoring the several times I had dresses torn out of my hands by rabid shoppers, it was a truly magical event. 

Illegal Steven

A couple of weeks ago, I decided I needed a break from real life, and took the train to Montreal, where time doesn't necessarily stop, but rather stops caring.  An example of that was the two-hour train ride which was somehow condensed into (what seemed like) a five minute chat with a family of eight heading down to watch the hockey game.  Montreal was playing Ottawa, so we weren't the only ones chatting:  the entire train was heading down to watch the game, and the pre-party was held in Via Rail seats 1-200. 

My friend Tyler met me at the station and said something really stupid upon seeing me, launching us into what turned into a 48 hour laughing/heaving fit, full of wheelchair-bound traffic rule breakers, and imaginary cougars.  Somehow our old friend The Pantera Italiana (The Italian Panther)  made his/her way into conversation once again.  Tyler and I met in Italian class, and we like to imagine our relationship stemming from our love for this imaginary...thing.  The surprising part is that it's been years since it's creation, yet when we see each other, all pantera-isms rise to the surface.   

But all was not lost to our inexplicable immaturity:  when we weren't mistaking Cher for Jim Carrey or declaring that Christmas is about blame and regret, we cleaned out H&M, danced amidst pre-pubescent boys, ate incredible food, and dreamt really strange dreams. Only in Montreal. 

Tyler, posing with a nearly-vegan scarf.
Thanks, 10% wool, thanks a lot.

We waited about eight hours (fine, one) to have Sunday brunch at Sparrow, but it was well worth it. My new favorite brunch place, if only for these homemade vanilla custard donuts and mimosa!

"There is no shame in preferring happiness." I found this quote at Les Glaceurs, the cupcake shop I wrote about in an earlier entry, where Tyler and I ended our adventures.  What better way to capture such a lighthearted weekend? 

I'm starting to really like Montreal and its craziness.  The unpredictability of our metro station surroundings, the unreasonably late open hours of bistros and toy shops, the insatiable craving everyone seems to have for being somewhere, everywhere perhaps, at once...the energy is so palpable.  Though sometimes I wonder if maybe, just maybe, it's just Tyler. 

The Battle Begins

Last winter was such a lovely break from the norm...the snow only made one attempt at scaring us (a 24 hour blizzard), after which it, seemingly shamed by its failure, sat in little clumps, shyly melting into sewers. Being able to walk to a coffee shop without having to pull strands of frozen hair out of my eyelids was wonderful.  Having full control of my fingers on my trips to and from work was delightful. Being able to wear my new ankle boots without having them covered in patches of salt like winter's own barnacles...just perfect.  It seems this year we'll be paying the price. Yesterday was the coldest October day ever.  My friend Lindsay and I first noticed it as we walked back to work having bought lunch.  Our McDonald's bags flailed violently in our hands, risking escape and consequently, the release of two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, and a sesame seed bun onto passers-by.  The wind howled, and it was freezing. So, I thought, 'Okay winter. Let's do this.'

Winter rose to the challenge last night.  It snowed. On October 23rd.  And instead of getting angry, I decided to compile a quick list of essentials for the "not fall anymore but not quite winter yet" season. 

Item number One, of course, is a nice, big scarf.  I tend to choose earth tones for my wardrobe, so this time I decided to follow my 14 year-old sister's advice and step out of my shell.  I love the lilac color of this one, and I really, really love the giant pompoms. The only thing I still haven't decided is how I like to wear it...

With my hair up, looking part Little My, Part Lykke Li, and really drawing the focus to it's shape, perhaps? 

Then, of course, it's important to factor in shoes, purse, and hat.  I haven't worn this vintage hat out yet (it's a vintage pillbox) but my plan is to wear it with these fabulous vintage shoes and purse. 

Last but not least, I'd say the best transition-season article of clothing is a little faux-fur coat.  

I found this one at an antique store in New York, and wore it for the first time last night.  Maybe it's the four seasons of Sex and the City I watched in the last two weeks (in which Carrie makes wearing fur coats as natural as a donning a pair of Uggs), or maybe it's just the coat...but when I walked down the street and felt it's light trim flowing gently behind me, I thought, 'You can have this round, winter.'