We woke up around noon today, as usual. It's Sunday so the street market was downstairs and H volunteered to get fresh baguette, croissants, fruits, and whatever my heart desired. My heart yearned for a Paris-Brest, which is basically sugar posing as pastry.
But H came back home with much more: Plump cherries, succulent strawberries, a fragrant melon plus a tall bouquet of flowers.
Happy hormones shooting up.
To reward the man, I made shrimp scampi for lunch with what we had at home. This required some help from my friend in the terrace, Elvis Parsley.
Yeah, I name the plants. You should meet Toni Basil. She's been flowering lately, so I'm happy for her.
Anyway, we had this while watching Kitchen Nightmares with Gordon Ramsay, and it made my cooking look soooo much better. Not that it needed any help...
It tasted a helluva lot better than it looks here. For once I didn't overcook the shrimps (maybe because they were gigantic, too). You can't see them so well because I finished the giant onion leftover from yesterday's siopao sauce experiment.
I wanted to go see the Impressionist exhibit at the Hotel de Ville since it's gratuit (free), but the weather was acting up so we might swing by on Tuesday before we catch the acts performing for Fête de la Musique.
Speaking of Fête de la Musique, the building had it's own yesterday night and some friends sang and played guitar. H was pulled in to play percussion and it brought out the stage wife in me a teeny bit, especially when I heard the first notes to "Paint It Black." I was facing east but I could spy the sunset from where I sat, and caught the first twinkle of light from the Tour Eiffel reflected in one of the windows. I got a bit drunk from glass after glass of champagne so I stepped out for some fresh air in the balcony and dove into the chilly night, while fireworks exploded across the dark firmament as Paris welcomed summer.
But to be honest, it feels like autumn again.
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