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Almond Mocha Latte

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I don’t drink coffee very often but it’s not every day Princesses are born (Congratulations Duchess of Cambridge) and I waited long enough for a new series of ‘Silicon Valley’, so there you go, it’s my celebration day.

Why I love ‘Silicon Valley’ so much? Because it is divinely hilarious and quite intelligent. It’s got something that ‘Big Bang Theory’ is lacking for me. I never finished watching a single episode of Big Bang Theory, it got me annoyed and bored. It always felt like the show was made for the public to think they are more clever than they are, because they watch something about nerds. The viewer is not laughing with the geeks but at them, jokes are stereotypical. On the other hand in ‘Silicon Valley’ characters and situations seem more realistic and not geek offensive. I love when creators don’t treat their audience like idiots who can’t understand coding jokes or sci-fi and comic book references. So to me, SV is a winner. And I raise my mocha latte to it!

Almond Mocha Latte

1 or 2 shots of coffee

1 tbsp lucuma

1 tbsp cocoa

1 cup almond milk

1 tsp almond butter

honey or agave syrup (optional)

1. In a cup put lucuma.

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2. To lucuma add cocoa.

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3. Add coffee and almond butter and mix well into a pasty form.

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4. In the meantime steam almond milk. Add to your coffee and mix well. Add honey or agave syrup if you like it sweeter. Enjoy!

Almond Mocha Latte

Almond Mocha Latte

Almond Mocha Latte

Almond Mocha Latte

Almond Mocha Latte

Almond Mocha Latte

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About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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