We’ve had stories, we’ve had chocolate, we’ve had a first attempt at macaron reviewing… you know what that means, right? It’s time for an art post. Welcome, my friends, to the Louvre…
I can’t help feeling that if I’d been shot with several arrows, my face would express something a little more intense than “Oh, look at the sky... what shall I have for lunch today? Doo-de-doo...” (“Saint Sébastien” by Pietro Vannucci dit Pérugin)
I’m posting this because I like the way you almost can’t tell where the real people end and the painting begins. (“Les Noces de Cana” by Paolo Veronese.)
Each to their own, I guess? (“La Mort de Cléopâtre” by Giovanni Pietro Rizzoli dit Giampetrino)
You know what sustains a girl through many hours at the Louvre? Delicious handmade truffles by Camille. This was the “gingembre” truffle. I was a little scared going into it as I don’t like crystallised ginger, but hurrah! This was a smooth and luscious chocolate ganache with just a hint of ginger heat coming in at the end. Score!
Girl, I feel your pain and crankiness. I too once had the misfortune of getting a haircut that made me look like Patty and Selma. Did you also have a brother who teased you mercilessly about it? (“La Reine Marie-Anne d’Autriche” by Diego Velazquez)
A woman after my own heart – halfway through a pomegranate and going for the figs. Chuck in some raspberries and a fuyu persimmon and you’ve got all my favourite fruits right there. (“Femme Prenant des Fruits” by Abraham Brueghel)
I seem to be taking lots of photos of horse statues and paintings. Parents, it’s my birthday in a few months. I WANT A PONY. (“Tête de Cheval Blanc” by Théodore Gericault.)
This is for Shellie and Fiona, because they got so excited about David’s, erm, bits... (“The Turkish Bath”, by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres)
And a coconut truffle, which had honest-to-goodness the silkiest ganache I’ve ever come across. Camille, you’re a magician. But even this couldn’t compare to your praline truffle wonders, particularly the ones that had nothing but crispy-crackly-nutty goodness inside. Anyone in the Paris vicinity – get thee to Camille’s place of work and go crazy!
(Also, I should mention that it’s forbidden to eat in the Louvre. So yes, I was the girl darting into the nooks and crannies between rooms to sneak illegal truffles. That’s not addict behaviour, is it?)