I thought in the morning, that one of the things I like (ba) n of the holidays is the next day we c

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I thought in the morning, that one of the things I like (ba) n of the holidays is the next day we could have breakfast cake. It is so since I have memory. So the day of celebration do not rush to eat. I know what will come next morning.
Thus, between wells, liquor glasses, ashtrays, a girl in pajamas html table top enjoyed the cake, the cake, the sweet remains. I wanted to think about what this means to me atmosphere, the laughter echoing, certain kinetic tattooed in the air. There, sitting on the kitchen bench, reminisce what it was looking for the balloons deflated, just prior to the calm and collect all rub.
As we stopped to touch the objects? The girl looks, holding the plate of cake in hand, the provision of services at the table, who screwed up the napkin, who pulled out zucre, who was dropped by the spoon, who esfarelou camellias one of the center table, who left a glass of wine to drink half a cork with sticks in the form of horse (who can keep the treasures).
Made me remember the cakes cream. Put another twist: metéchesme in the time machine and travel didst to Christmas when the child was a child (the Als Kind, Kind war ...). Threw all year taciña breakfast to soups, day in and day out, and then came those days and dark curtiños the end of the year, those days full of promises, dining farturentas, nougat el-almond, fig and steps cream cookies that my mom made. I tell the liturgy of my mother, Dolores. During a tempadiña was keeping up a jar of milk [home had cows and the milk consumed was that, of course, and was very rich in cream]. The day of the lottery, which cadraba with the start of the vacation, the mother peneiraba flour on the kitchen table and kneaded biscuits. Not only was the job of kneading, but also to make my brother and me to not eat the delicious dough. After extendíaa html table top and poñíame me shape the biscuits using a glass as a mold. And finally in the oven, of course. It left us swallow hot, that perhaps we were wrong, and íanolas rationing lasted for everything Christmas. html table top And best of all, Dolores, get up that morning was cold and wet, go down to the kitchen, feel the pleasure of caloriño the fire going and wait until the mother opened the chinero, took the jar of cookies and put in a few to wet in milk. Comment by xdafonte 23/04/2011 @ 21:51
Always agasallándome with these delicious stories! Liturgy That also cha I know, this cup of the cream grandmother gathered for days, gradually, the chinero, morning marked the iron ... Thanks. Comment by dorestembras 23/04/2011 @ 22:54
Kicking the canada, whole milk with the bay leaf sap, gorse and heather. Cool the potatoes with the milk. Curdled milk. Manteca for desnatadora.