BRUNCH?!

When I said I had a few more Paris posts to come, I meant it. I hope no one (of the millions of people hanging on my every word) held their breath. I've been back in DC all summer, enjoying seeing my friends and working as a nanny during the week, and at a farmer's market on the weekends. The transition has been relatively smooth. Honestly, my biggest problem is my disdain for the drinking age in the states. It really riles me up. Is it December yet?

Anywho, to get back to wrapping up my time abroad, which the crew and I frantically spent trying to make the most of (we succeeded). Remember how picnics were a large part of my life in Paris towards the end there?I FORGOT BRUNCH.

The concept of "brunch" in Paris is much like the current cupcake trend there: very, very fashionable & cool, and very VERY poorly executed. Unless you have money to blow.

Faced with this problem, and too much free time, and a veritable mimosa addiction, the crew promptly began to have our own brunches. With certain members on board (and often, the direction of Eiffel Tower Legs), our brunches were elevated to a level of amazingness I could never have expected. But it should be noted that Annebam and I had many a brunch toute seule, as the evidence will prove, and each time was lovely (although maybe we should have had more people around because we inevitably ended up incapacitated by our painfully overstuffed tummies and bubble-bamboozled heads).

Do I detect a glimmer of anxiety in Anne's face? SO MUCH FOOD.

Firebread! Whipped cream! Speculoos!

Ohboyohboyohboy

Risotto, Speculoos french toast, and fried eggs. Brunch of champions (aka Anne+Caro)

Diarra tries domestic on for size, as everyone debates the name of the dish (eggs in a basket?)

Final product!

YUM.

End result of many a brunch: total self-annihilation, also known as intense sleepytime.

P.S. Last night my friend showed me how to use google maps to actually put yourself on the street and look at the buildings (some businesses you can even "go into!" So obviously I started looking up my house/friend's houses in Paris. And cried. Pathetic. Evidently I miss it.