What Buttons On A Pursuit Car Remote

Transibérien

of Blaise Cendrars

At that time thence I was in my teens.

I was barely sixteen and already I could not remember most of my childhood

I was at 16,000 miles from my birthplace

I Moscow in the city of a thousand and three towers and seven stations

And I did not have enough stations and seven miles and three laps

For my adolescence was so ardent and so mad that my heart

Tower in turn, burned the temple of Ephesus as

or as Red Square in Moscow

When the sun goes down.

And my eyes lit up the old ways.

And I was already so bad poet

What I did not go through.

The Kremlin was like a huge cake

Tartar Crispy golden

With large almond cathedrals, all white

And honeyed gold bell ... An old monk

read me the legend of Novgorod

And I was thirsty I deciphered the cuneiform

Then, suddenly, the pigeons of the Holy Spirit flew over the place and my hands

also flew with rustling albatross

And this was the last echoes of the last day

From latest travel

And the sea

However, I was very bad poet.

I did not go through.

And I was hungry all day and all the women in pubs and all the glasses

I wanted to drink and break

And all the windows and all the streets

And all the houses and all the lives

And all the wheels of the cabs which turned into a whirlwind of bad blocks

I wanted to dive into a furnace of sword

And I wanted to crush all the bones and tear

all languages

liquefy And all these great bodies and naked in strange clothes that m'affolent ...

I foresaw the coming of Christ great red of the Russian Revolution ...

And the sun was a bad wound

that opens like an inferno.

In that time I was in my teens

I just sixteen and already I could not remember more of my birth

I was in Moscow where I wanted to feed flames

And I did not have enough towers and stations that studded my eyes

In Siberia the cannon thundered, it was war

Hunger cold fever and cholera

And the muddy waters of the Amur carting millions of carrion

In every station I could see from all the last trains

No one could leave because we no longer issuing tickets

And the soldiers who went would have liked to stay ...

An old monk sang me the legend of Novgorod

Free Seating Chart Template Wedding

Who's there? - Tofu Cheesecake cardamom

That's it, it happened.

He was holed up in a corner, ready to pounce at any moment, her little face buried in the treacherous ruins of the late summer. And boom! here he is bearing down on me, atmosphere chainsaw massacre: Did you recognize? Yes yes, it's him, the first cold. It had not been suspicious, too used to enjoy every second of the Indian summer.


But it's him, the dirty kid in mid-season. It was perhaps a little teaser, with the neck and the bare legs in the breeze, that seemed to say with aplomb, whistling bike, no, this year, not for me nose, thank you.

And then there's that slight scratching the back of the throat, itchy eyes a little, green-dyed aspirino looming, I panic, I know this fragrance, try the emergency measures and persuading me yes, this time, they protect me. Scarf-double-herbal-diet-of-rum-essential oils-bath-hot-as-bad-for-the environment-for-once-it-will-yes?


That slab.
So I abdicate, I cook chicken carcasses for soup I hope therapy, I resign myself to mix good soups in September, I will retry the whole shebang left: stay-warm within forty duvets (with Mad Men Lie to Me, How I Met, Gossip Girl - not even ashamed - and the latest book by Marie Nimier) , gargling with salt water (argh ) , inhalations burning, the honey-lemon galore (and rum always tip, we agree) . People whisper in my ear that he must drink beer Hot? well anyway I'm not ready to it, huh. Go for warm beer.

The real problem, in fact, it's not so much that I hate being sick. Is that the cold, he adores me. I surkiffe to death. He squats for months, it spreads out, it rots my life (and that of the lover, fatally) .

So here, as you do not see me, I'm huddled in my sweater and my scarf, cup in one hand and fag whip in the other, gripped by a furious desire for sweet like every hour what . That

Thus a famous cheesecake with tofu and lemon pulp, one of my innumerable experiments of tofu-esque moment.
tofu, firm or soft, lends itself perfectly to the sweet, both raw and cooked. Rather than bland, it is especially a great flavor carrier. I will return.


And before I forget, a few words about the photography contest organized by culinary 750g.com. Not very usual contest ... but when there is a meal in the man who Whisperer onions to win changes everything.
So theme: the vegetable on the plate. Deadline: Oct. 15.
Info: here

I remembered this photo I liked, a plate of vegetable raw, cooked and burnt, here.

*** Cheesecake silken tofu, lemon pulp ***

for 4 mini cheesecakes

* for the base: about 150g Digestive biscuits type / 50g butter


* Cream 200g silken tofu
50g cream cheese 50g
Greek yogurt 1 egg

1cs
flour 35gr sugar 3 cardamom pods


Crush cookies coarsely, add melted butter and mix. Divide the dough into individual circles (on Silpat sheet) springform pan or individual. Although equalize. Keep refrigerated.

Open the cardamom pods and crush the seeds in a mortar.
Mix all ingredients. Spread over the base and bake about 45 minutes at 100 degrees. Turn oven off and leave the cheesecake one hour. Keep refrigerated.

*
lemon pulp 1 lemon 50g
water agar
1g - 1 / 2 cc open
1cs

sugar Grate the zest of the lemon and squeeze the body and soul (/ juice and pulp). Pour into a saucepan and add the agar and sugar. Heat 2 minutes and set aside.

Serve chilled cheesecake with lemon pulp.



*** Author's note dying: It seems, however, distinguish a horizon of healing almost assured around the 108 boulevard Saint-Germain horizon that I should to reach the vicinity of Monday afternnon, phew. Because no such thing to perk up a good dose of magnesium, so I'll have a shelf honey ganache praline AND AND another few dozen candy lemon thyme, lemongrass, lemon basil, orange ...

So, everything's gonna be ok.

Usaa Debit Card Balance Number

10 good reasons to live in London (and the best cakes in the world) from

Ten good reasons to live in London *

- can be a super band friends with squirrels and foxes in the street, but with ducks and swans parks - although they are a hair clip without laughing
- we can cross Jude Law and his kids to the movies neighborhood Sunday evening
- you can go out for a race at M & S in fluorescent orange vest and leggings without being denied by the fashion-police
- can be called " my love" by the clerks of the post, or "my dear " by cashiers at Waitrose
- you can immerse yourself in the blink of an eye in the nature of a huge park, for example, from roses thirty miles from Queen Mary's Garden Regent's Park
- you can send an email to City Hall to request a post to which to attach his bike - and see that it was installed a month later
- you can leave it parked outside Aston with iPad lying around for a scratch without fear (I note, just)
- you can say "I live in London " and have hyper-class
- can be at Patrick Roger 2:00 and bananas in a crisis of hypoglycemia meteoric
- you can eat the best cakes in the world the tearoom Sketch Parlour of - thanks to a fabulous-namoure-who-has-Goldshire-in-the-hands-no-yes-yes-that-it

Lightning Chios - pistachio cream and candied pistachios

Coffee Guanaja - hazelnut praline, ganache Guanaja, Sacher cake, chocolate coffee sabayon

raspberry Charlotte - spoon biscuit, raspberry jam, matcha ganache

Manjari chocolate pie

Oh Cherie - almond cream, pan-fried cherry lime, cardamom almond paste

Cardinal - macaroon ice fishing marmalade peach, cream muslin grenade

tart strawberry jelly sake, custard, biscuit soaked in strawberry juice, royal icing

A Pink Paradise - Campari shell of meringue, fresh raspberries, cream, pink pralines

* or 'A year later, the results "

*** Sketch - 9 Conduit Street , London, W1S 2XG ***