When I first started this blog I had hoped to post at least once a week or at least once every two weeks if things had been busy. So, three months after my last post, it’s time to come out of hibernation.
The only way to top a cupcake in my eyes is to make it a CHEESECAKE cupcake. (I was going to try to join the two words a la cronut but it doesn’t work. Cheesecupcakes isn’t so catchy).
Another weekend, another brunch.
A couple of weekends ago I was feeling especially delicate on a Sunday. The night before had been Brussels’ annual ‘Nuit Blanche’- a ‘sleepless night’ in French. It’s always one of my favourite nights of the year when dozens of art/dance/music/drama/interactive/younameit shows take place in one area of Brussels.This year’s offering did not disappoint.
I love Brussels (most of the time) and I also adore its amazing range of comfort food. The word ‘stoemp’ even sounds stick-to-the-ribs carborific. Sometimes though, I CRAVE the comfort food I associate with home.
I come from a small village in the north of Ireland right next to the Belfast Lough.