Season's Greetings

Here's to everyone having a very merry Christmas and an absolute blast ushering in the new year!

I for one am truly looking forward to 2010 for all sorts of reasons, firstly because I'll be kicking off my teaching calendar with the return of a familiar favourite - this macaron and biscotti class is back; to all the lovely ladies who requested its return, thank you very much and I look forward to seeing you. Only 2 sessions of this demo class have been scheduled, on 9 January 2010(Saturday) and 10 January 2010(Sunday) at Shermay's Cooking School. For inquiries, please call +65 6479 8442 or email shermaycs@yahoo.com.sg

Another reason, of course, is that I'm also looking forward to the week thereafter as we'd re-scheduled our break to January. While there're few cities as breathtaking as la ville-lumière in December, and I'm sorry to be missing it, January brings with it the consolation prize of hitting les soldes d'hiver like a gale moving at speeds off the Beaufort scale, not a trifling consideration if you have a bit of a retail therapy thing.

But really, that aside, I am psyched to appreciate the austere beauty of the city in late winter, far from the madding crowds. In Hemingway's soul-stirring words from A Moveable Feast,

When we came back to Paris it was clear and cold and lovely. The city had accommodated itself to winter, there was good wood for sale at the wood and coal place across our street, and there were braziers outside of many of the good cafes so that you could keep warm on the terraces. Our own apartment was warm and cheerful. We burned boulets which were molded, egg-shaped lumps of coal dust, on the wood fire, and on the streets the winter light was beautiful. Now you were accustomed to see the bare trees against the sky and you walked on the fresh-washed gravel paths through the Luxembourg gardens in the clear sharp wind. The trees were beautiful without their leaves when you were reconciled to them, and the winter winds blew across the surfaces of the ponds and the fountains were blowing in the bright light.