“Everyone is in for a hot chocolate?” I asked our friends M. and A. as we all sat around the table. It was early afternoon and despite the bright sun shining outside, it felt bitterly cold. We didn’t mention it but we felt glad to be sitting inside. Home to drink hot chocolate. And eat muffins.

“You don’t mind if my muffins have cocoa in them too, do you? I added, suddenly unsure that we should actually drink hot chocolate to go along with the muffins I’d baked.

A. was the first to look at me. His face lit up with a wide smile that made him look like a child excited to be standing in front of a piece of beautiful candy.

“Are you kidding?”

He was right. What was I thinking? It didn’t matter that we had them together because when it’s cold and snowy outside and the fireplace is going–and it feels so toasty warm that I could almost sleep inside it–I cannot help but think about Chocolate. Baking. Muffins.

These words sound so melodious when they are put side by side. Enchanting. They feel cozy.

Baking, to start, has a magic buzz. It carries this je-ne-sais-quoi that invariably makes me feel peaceful. Secure. When it happens spontaneously, I like that I don’t feel the need to be original. A list of ingredients naturally flows in my head and that’s enough to start the process. I’ve done the maths and tried the combination so often before that I am confident that nothing can go wrong. Nothing can get between me and my muffins.

And Chocolate, more precisely.

It’s something that I’ve noticed. The fact that I obviously enjoy making all kinds of dessert. From fruit tarts, clafoutis, petits pots de crème, oeufs à la neige, crumbles, charlottes. But that one way or the other, I invariably come back to anything that involves chocolate.

Chocolate. It’s a charming word that I just know oh too well will make my stomach smile in any occasion.

And these muffins were indeed just right. They used delicate unsweetened cocoa (Valrhona is a favorite), flours with character, and bananas that made them moist. The muffins felt light and nutritious.

“Anyone for a second?” I asked as we were engaged in a lively conversation.

“Of course!” A. was once again the first to respond. I watched him pick a second muffin and felt pleased. I’ve always liked that he has such an obvious enthusiasm for desserts.

I also told him to bring the muffins left home. I thought he might enjoy one on his flight back to Paris. But as I was clearing the table shortly after they’d left, I realized he’d simply forgotten.

“Ah well,” I thought. “Tant pis !” (bummer)

I didn’t tell him but in the end, I was glad that he had forgotten. I was thinking about the walk I’d have in the cold with Lulu the next day, and despite the fact that I’d have my feet frozen and my cheeks and nose turned pink red from too much wind, I’d feel quite happy to have yet another hot chocolate and muffin moment.

Deep inside, you know, I am really a winter kind of girl.

And I think that Lulu is learning to turn into one too.

Non?

I know. I am not writing a lot in this space these days, but I promise that there’s a lot of food prepared in my kitchen. I sometimes wonder how comes it disappears so quickly!

Anyway, while I am trying to find time to write something that will sound cohesive — yes, well, let’s just add that I sent my book manuscript to my editor last week, so I am feeling deflated for words — at least I can show you what we enjoyed today for dessert.

Our Sunday treat.

It’s the sweetest thing: I woke up thinking chocolate! I wanted a chocolate dessert.

The dessert was going to have a dark chocolate with character, coconut milk, and lightly sweetened meringues baked on top. I had already made chocolate creams last week and thought to bake another batch, adding a meringue on top — a lovely idea that I was inspired to try from a recipe found in a recent copy of the French food magazine Saveurs.

Swoon.

The creams were delicate and deliciously smooth. They tasted like December and snow and winter and I-want-to-make-a nest-inside. That alone made me suddenly realize that Christmas is just at the corner.

It made me think about that exact same day last year, when our beautiful bébé Lulu was born. Can it be one year ago already?

Somehow, the memory of that magical, powerful and incredible time of our life came back, leaving us emotional. I remember the pavlova I baked the day we left quietly for the hospital, and the cakes I had baked one day before.

My head is filled with those vivid images. They make us feel cozy.

Ready to enjoy this upcoming family time. In our small nest.

With chocolate.

For Lulu’s birthday.

“You’ll do well! ” P. said in a soft voice that sounded reassuring. He was looking at me straight in the eyes. Intensely as if to convince me even more.

I knew that it would be fine. That I would fine. But I was still feeling rather nervous — thrilled and excited! In fact, I couldn’t fall easily asleep at night, tossing again and again, thinking about Thursday, Friday and then Saturday, and about the French TV journalist and cameraman who were flying from Paris to meet me.

Thursday, Friday and Saturday happened. It’s been magical — and I can sleep again! They walked into our home and for two full busy days, they filmed and interviewed me, in my small kitchen. I am sure you can imagine the scene of me, P. and Lulu behind the camera — oh how much she liked it — and the kind of adrenaline I’ve been on! I think I still don’t realize that it happened.

But I am lucky: they were extremely friendly and made me feel at ease — we had a lot of fun. I’ll tell you more about it, I promise: details about the program and when it airs; about what we saw, what I cooked and what we ate.

Meanwhile, an overwhelming chocolate craving took me over. A few days ago, we started the day with a pile of chocolate crêpes on the breakfast table — Lulu enjoyed her first one too — then I made chocolate mousse, and the next day, I had a chocolate snow eggs for dessert at lunch. One full serving* just* by myself! Juste pour moi!

It tasted rich and chocolaty, leaving wonderful aromas in my mouth.

It filled me with so much happy energy that after I licked my fingers and the spoon clean, Lulu and I went for a long walk in one of your favorite nature reserves close to the house.

It was still somewhat mild for the season so I decided to lay a blanket on the grass where she and I sat. She looked at me, surprised, and then smiled, clapping her hands and moving her legs and feet swiftly. She was a happy baby, with her hands full of the grass she grabbed.

And me a happy maman to be sitting there with her under the apple tree, with a stomach full of scrumptious chocolate custard.

I am working hard at the moment. I mean, harder than usual as I sit at my desk for long hours in the evenings, busy working on the edits of my cookbook manuscript. That invariably makes my eyes look puffy in the morning, and have me crave for long naps in the afternoon. I wish I could take those naps when Lulu takes hers, but the thing is that as she reaches almost 11 months of age, her naps become scarce–and so do mine malheureusement!

Naturally, this increased brain activity makes me even more hungry than usual for healthy homemade foods.

So to keep a semblance of life normalcy and keep my energy going–and my sanity–Lulu and I take walks to the park where she plays on the swings, never wanting to leave; we have afternoon excursions to local farms before the season is over; and I take her to see the animals, oh yes, we both enjoy that part: the sheep and chicken and Lizzie the cow.

And when we are back at the house, we cook and bake together.

While I stand in front of the stove, she sits on the floor with, in front of her, a large box in which she endlessly puts miscellaneous objects in and out. In and out again.

Lulu seems to like our partnership. How we work together. She laughs when she hears the sizzling sound of butter in the frying pan when I prepare crêpes; she stares at the pot on the stove when I lift the lid to check on a meat stew. She watches me attentively when I whisk and beat and dust and make a mess in the kitchen–I am a specialist of that craft! I hope that she notices the smells that diffuse in the house, of the many cakes that go in the oven, the tarts that cool on the counter top, and the tajines and vegetable stews that simmer on the stove. The fact is that, Dieu merci, there’s always something going on in the kitchen.

A lot of things cooking.

And since I am busy retesting, perfecting and eating all of these foods that will go in the cookbook, at least, despite the lack of sleep and free time, we keep our healthy eating habits. I know that no matter what, that’s simply never going to change.

This chocolate dessert, for example, was supposed to go inside the cookbook. But as I looked back at my recipe list that keeps growing and growing, I realized that I had to stop saying “this recipe has to go in the cookbook“. You know, not everything will, and can, go in the cookbook–and it’s a good thing. It’s all yours now.

I baked the dessert last year, I remember now, and have made it a number of times since then. I find that it’s an easy way to dress-up an honest chocolate cake. In fact, thinking about it, it’s a nice idea to keep handy should you suddenly need dessert brought on the table and you’re short of time but still want something that catches the eye.

I might just have to make it again.

I came with the intention to tell you about beautiful purple eggplants and how delicious they turned into dinner but instead, here I am, again, with the story of a cake.

It came as the priority — my eggplants will have to wait a little.

After spending ten days with us, my mother traveled back to France yesterday night, which left me with a sudden urge to bake at 10 pm. It was hard to see her go. “I should be used to it by now,” I thought. But it’s not becoming easier and I’ll never get used to it, in fact.

While I was nursing Lulu on the bed upstairs, I was thinking about P. driving my mother to the airport, and the two of them waiting in terminal B by the American Airlines gate with the sign Paris Charles de Gaulle.

I know well that I am going to miss our daily lunches and walks together — between her, Lulu and I. Every time it happens, that traveling-back-home and saying-goodbye-we-will-see-each-other-soon, you know, there is the same pinch to the heart, the same tightness in the stomach — and the same urge to bake.

And then, with my hands busy beating eggs and sugar, I kept thinking about how much my mother would have enjoyed making that special cake with me. It’s something that I didn’t learn from her, that cake. It’s something that belongs to the culture that I slipped into. Here. It’s about the recipe and culture of a cake that I am happy to share with her, something that she can bring back home. To France.

By 11:30 pm, as P. and I walked upstairs to slip into bed, the cake sat at one corner of the kitchen counter top, leaving a waft of sugar everywhere in the house. Making us dream about something soft and sweet. Delicious.

When I was little, my mother taught me what I needed to know about how to start to bake. Today, I like to think that I can also teach her something new and different about baking.

It’s something about the relationship between a mother and her daughter in the kitchen.

Bon et le gâteau alors !

This cake is deliciously dense. Add as much chocolate and nuts as you like — more than required cannot hurt. It’s a cake that isn’t too sweet, because I like cakes this way; it’s cake that keeps well for a few days, if you need to, but it rarely reaches the point when you need it to keep. It’s made quickly; it’s eaten just as fast.

My friend Y. loves chocolate. Well in fact, more than anything else, she loves dessert.

She is quite happy that I know this distinctive trait of personality of hers. In the hope, I know well, that whenever she stops by at our house, there will be something sweet to please her taste buds.

It’s a good thing that chances of this happening are high.

Y. is also one of the sweetest and kindest persons that I know: she is funny, smart, sporty, caring, gourmande, full of energy, and a woman who absolutely loves babies. She really does!

Smart me, I remembered that characteristics of hers too.

It’s not that I was actually craving to go out since Lulu’s birth. In fact, as odd as it might sound to many, I don’t miss going out at the moment at all. Far from it. Instead, I prefer quiet nights at home, between P. Lulu and I. Our small family gathered.

“My friend K. asked if we wanted to go to a ballet next Saturday,” P. asked one evening, a few weeks ago.

“We can’t!”

“Why not?”

“What about Lulu?”

“We can sort that out.”

And so, with two ballet tickets purchased and a dinner plan with our friends made, I really could only say yes. Thus the issue of a baby sitter arose, for the first time.

Of course, it had to start gently for me.

Since I could not imagine have a stranger take care of our precious princess, I immediately thought about Y., and my other dear friend E. They would be able to dine together, watch TV5 if they wanted to. And I would make sure that the fridge was full so that they would be well fed too.

Essentiel !

“What are you making?” P. asked when he saw that I was wearing an apron, obviously busy baking. He looked puzzled, which showed he had no idea why I was cooking something on a night we were dining out.

“Chocolate mousse. For Y. and E.,” I responded. I was holding a pot in one hand and was licking the chocolate-covered spoon I had in the other.

I went on: “I know they’ll like that.”

“I bet!”

Y. and E. cooked beefsteaks and made a medley of sauteed vegetables with a salad on the side. They teased me too, and sent a picture of their meal with their Iphone, after I texted them to make sure that everything was going well.

“Uneventful, the princess is asleep, and the chefs are in the kitchen making dinner.”

And they enjoyed the chocolate mousse. Especially Y.

“Oh my goodness, these are so lovely,” Y. had exclaimed after seeing the chocolate mousse glasses lined up on the higher shelf of the fridge.”But they are tiny!”

“I know,” I answered, smiling. “But I am sure you’ll be eating more than one!”

She did.

And we ate the rest the next day.

“Areuuu… areuuuu*…aaaaaa…ooooooo….” Lulu was repeating happily.

She’s becoming so vocal these days, talking to herself when she lies in her bed, or when she plays with her hands that she holds tight together, her arms stretched out above her eyes. Each sound, in fact, is more charming than the other; they all make me melt. Things change so quickly!

“Regarde ce que maman fait (look at what mummy is making),” I told her as she stared at the wooden spoon I was holding in my right hand. She was obviously intrigued by the steady circular movement of the spoon inside the chocolate bowl. The rich smell of melted chocolate and butter diffused throughout the kitchen, despite the window I had cracked open to let the lovely spring air filter through. That put me in an even better mood for the upcoming activities of the day.

“Un jour, you will be like papa et maman,” I added as I squeezed her tighter in her sling by my right hip. “Tu seras fan de chocolat noir. (you’ll be fan of dark chocolate.)”

We surely hope so.

I was preparing for an early afternoon work meeting and felt happy that between Lulu’s naps and play times, I was able to pull together a small treat we would enjoy while working.

“What did you bake today?” S., my editor, asked a few minutes after she walked into the kitchen. Lulu gave S. an open frank smile when she picked her up from her yellow play mat, to hold her close. I sensed that she was in fact more interested in Lulu than what I had baked, and I was not blaming her.

“Something with chocolate. You’ll tell me what you think. I want you to guess what’s in it.”

“That should get her gourmande attention,” I thought deep inside, smiling.

I call the cakes muffins but I am actually not sure that they are muffins, technically speaking. But muffins or cakes, whatever the name, these chocolate treats were really simple to prepare.

“Do you like chocolate?” I asked H., the art director, also present. I loved the wide smile that lit her pretty face. And her response.

“Of course, I am normal!”

“Right! How can someone not like chocolate, n’est ce pas ?”

Ok, I know that it happens. And this is totally fine. In fact, you might well be one of the people who does not care at all about chocolate. Like my brother B., for example.

But if you like chocolate, like David for example, you might easily fall for this recipe: it uses buckwheat and hazelnut flours — making the recipe gluten free, if that matters to you — good quality dark chocolate, blond cane sugar, fresh eggs and lightly salted butter. Straightforward, simple and genuine.

“Approved?” I asked S. and H. as they were getting ready to leave.

“YES!”

A recipe that I am glad to share with you just in time for Easter, non?

Because I don’t know about your family, but in mine, chocolate is always on the menu for Easter, no matter what.

So, if you celebrate this holiday, I hope you have a wonderful time. And hopefully the weather will be nice so that we will all be able to go out for a walk, and feel the wonders of Spring.

I cannot wait.

I have five minutes this morning. Just five short minutes to share only a photo with you, between baking a soufflé for the book — oh boy they fall fast — and playing with Lulu. This one has become my favorite chocolate cake.

Every day, I keep hoping that I will have the time to come here to chat with you. I wait until the evening. But I’ve come to realize that it’s simply a bad idea. Because do you know what happens at night? I am wrecked. Crevée ! And believe me, you do no want me to start to speak English when I am exhausted. Ask P., he will tell you what it pretty much sounds like.

So I thought to pop here quickly to at least post a photo.

Better than nothing.

And to say hi! I cannot believe it is March, already!

Can you?

I hope your Christmas will be merry and full of joy — and great company and food. We shall talk soon!

Three years already? I am still amazed when I think about it.

Three years ago, on Nov 28th 2005, I started to blog. And in three years, needless to say that much has happened. I am aware that I am quite lucky: I met great people, virtually or in real life; I learned a ton; I started a new carrier; I am able to do, every day, something I continue to love just the same way, even more; and I am able to share pieces of it with you.

I want to dedicate this post to all of you without whom this blog would simply not be what it is today. Your constant encouragements and notes always bring me warmth. And make me smile and happy.

And yes, I am thankful!

Merci !

I designed this chocolate cake a few weeks ago, and made it already twice — it is light and deliciously chocolaty. The first one I made was for my friend L.’s baby shower, and the second one was for our Thanksgiving dinner, only yesterday. Irene, my friend Ron’s mum who is an amazing 97-year old woman, once also a modern dancer who lived and danced in Argentina and Europe, kept asking who baked the cake — her memory is leaving her, but she remembers tiny details of her life like no one else. “Did you bake the cake?” she asked P.

“Not me, Bea did,” he said pointing at me. She looked back, stared at me and said assertidly: “It’s really delicious. Can I have another slice?”

That was the best compliment.

You will get to know about it more soon — I will have to tell you something else then too!