Budget

My husband is an 8 year old boy trapped inside a near 30 year old body (eek we are getting old!). It’s one of his most endearing qualities, because he is so completely expressive and playful with everything. He never lost his childhood wonder about the world (even when he tries to act like a grown-up), and I hope he never does. With that comes his major sweet tooth. The man would eat cookies and cake for breakfast every day if I let him. My last buckwheat breakfast of pure sweet maple fruity heaven? You can probably guess that one was mainly for him, and all the pears, currants and maple syrup really made it taste like a warm comforting morning candy delight – it certainly brought me back to my childhood memories of piping hot oatmeal But that same morning, while the snow laid unmelted on the streets and the Alps were capped in their familiar white vestiges, I cooked for myself a different sort of breakfast. A savory one, with spinach, celeriac, sausage and eggs.