Eggs in a basket.
Chocolate fondue: to get a glossy consistency, skip the candle melting and double boil the chocolate over the stove.
Canadian goodness:
Above: Post-skiing snack of poutine (fries drenched in gravy goodness)
Below: Beavertails. I tried my first one- basically a flattened fritter smothered in toppings.
Mine is maple butter. Sugar and lardddddd.
Road trippin’ hipsters wear Barbour jackets and read the Monocle. Hipsters.
Jeff giving me a mouthful.
After moving from Hong Kong to Canada in Grade 8 and blissfully ignorant about hockey, I committed the ultimate sin by asking (aloud) who Wayne Gretzky was during French class.
If you’re Canadian the general assumption is that you’re born with skis, ice skates or a snowboard attached to your feet. I, on the other hand, was on the bunny hill in high school when everyone was achieving black diamond which left me little incentive to learn.
But God is just: while everyone is passionate about some sort of sport or blessed with athleticism, I have the gift of a fast metabolism. So now we’re all equal. Hallelujah.
Spent three days at the chalet in Blue Mountain with family. While we didn’t have a white christmas, snow came abound just in time for the perfect ski weather. I plowed through two books, drank the bulk bought hot chocolate and thoroughly enjoyed the home cooked meals my aunt prepared in advance. Nothing is better than a hearty dinner and good conversation till 2am after a long day in the cold (though technically I was indoors for most of it).
Photos by me and Evelyn.
given the amount of insanely delicious food you have consumed on this holiday you could be a hippo at this rate! I LOVE reading about your travels! Your humour always cracks me up! Miss you
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