I think the blog looks awesome. I am so happy with the new design. The peacock the personal touch and the soft and gentle colours are just perfect. Have been not into writing thes weeks, since the final design was done. Spring is tempting to start over again. So much going on and unbelievable it is almost the end if second term, girls are getting there and. A so proud if what they accomplished during their first year in London. London is a wonderful place to live and so easy after Rabat. And yet we often miss the pleasant way of of how we intend to life there 4 years. We went back twice this year, it is good to come back and visit and to share with each other the magnificent pictures of the country.

Busy with cooking with pastry . Since I started the Cordon Bleu in London, earlier in April I am not aware any longer of time, days, ....time goes , flies, impressions, learning, walks, strolling, baking, all kind of details, it seems I became again a baker, I thought I was and now since my great course at the CB I feel I discover baking. It is really an awesome place t be and I happy I made this step.

The Good Life in Morocco

The Good Life in Morocco

Missing Morocco....
In love with the beauty if that marvelous country.....
Discussing with one if my daughters the political and socio-economical situation of this country during the great depression...
Flavors...
Landscape....
Proud people...
Traveling means often collecting images , and some time I just miss it so much. I try to picture the landscape, feel to be there .

Mother tongue: flavors of love

It is snowing in London. No way the girls get a day off tomorrow, the snow turned in rain the last hours....
Winter just begun and there is still plenty of time they will get their day off.
I wish it was for tomorrow.
A cosy day at home, just the 4 of us.
The street looks so lovely, a white velvet blanket and cotton flakes like bird nest in the bold trees.
Hot chocolate.
Banana cake.
Apple compote.
Lazy attitude.
Food means relation and it shares feelings of home, our home is here in London, no doubt no worries. The language of food, sharing a dish, sitting together at the table in the kitchen.
Flavors that fill the heart of the home.
Discussions about the mother tongue. What is the mother tongue, is that what I spoke with my mother and then later on with my babies? It seems to me that their mother tongue is French and they feel good while speaking my mother tongue with me. When we are in the kitchen and make food there is never a question of mother tongue. There is flavor, taste, memories, moments, places we share.
Love, food, parents, children, generation, roots, feeling home.