This is what I have to put up with after the soldes (sales). Desserts. Lots of them. So sad, so hard. Such choices one has to face. Life is difficult in Rennes. I don't know how I do it. Tough choices every step of the way. Which bakery, which pastry shop, which dessert to eat after hours of shopping with my Belle Mere in pretty boutiques.
Hard, very hard, rough life.
And to think my mother says my life is charmed. Little does she know what I have to put up with:
Decisions. Decisions. Decisions. Such decisions as what little petit four to buy.
Charlotte Framboise:
Crème légère framboise, gelée de framboises, biscuit aux amandes
And to think I have to figure out what is what, French words that all spell sugar sweet deliciousness.
French Husband complained when I brought in the cakes, "No chocolate!"
"I know, I know, it was a complicated task. Chocolate wasn't the catch, it was the eye appealing designs that threw me."
"You're kidding right? You bought a chocolate one didn't you?" He mumbled with tears in his eyes.
"Nope. I was overwhelmed. Next time you go to the pastry shop (right outside your mother's door). I simply do not want to be burden anymore with such a task!"
"You do not even have to read the word Chocolate." He offered.
Félicia:
Crème légère framboise et rose, gelée de litchis, framboises entières, biscuit croustillant et génoise.
"But who cares about reading French when one's salvia is running down one's chin forming a puddle on the floor. I had bigger fish to fry than to look for chocolate. Do you know how annoyed I was by the puddle wetting my new shoes!" I stomped my soggy shoe for good measure.
Macaron Ananas:
Crème légère à l'ananas, morceaux d'ananas frais, biscuit macaron.
After such a long day of decision making, I told French Husband that if he continue to bug me about chocolate, I was going to eat all of the cakes myself.
His pouting distracted me long enough for him to grab the pastry box and run into the bedroom and slammed the door.
I heard him laughing.
I heard him gobbling.
I heard him burp.
I was annoyed that he burped, really what a gross thing to do.
"You better not eat all of them Mr. Oink!" I pouted in the corner.
He opened the door slowly. I wedged my foot in quickly and opened my mouth wide.
He went to kiss me, I squeeled, "Forget about it, I want cake, not your sloppy kisses."
Mont Blanc:
Mousseline aux marrons, crème chantilly, morceaux de marrons, pâte brisée et crème d'amande
Mont Blanc, was my reward after a grueling day.
13 Galerie du Théâtre : 02 99 79 33 81
Leave a Reply