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Vegan Chocolate Mousse

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vegan chocolate mousse

vegan chocolate mousse

Oh, the joy of doing nothing!

I never could understand people saying they would be bored or couldn’t imagine themselves doing nothing. I wish I could retire at the age of 30. My motto is, only boring people get bored, and even if I am off work for two weeks and I am not going on holiday, I still can’t manage to do everything I want to do. There is not enough time to watch all the films I want, to read all the books I want, or simply just to be….

And what about revisiting all the enjoyable films I feel warm about but never have time to watch them again?

Recently I watched ‘Baby Boom’ again and I didn’t even feel a little bit guilty.

First of all – Dianne Keaton and Sam Shepard. That should be enough to make you watch it.

Power shoulders, pussy bow blouses, suits and 80s electronic music, misogynistic comments, what’s not to love?

It’s amazing that 30 years on, not that much has changed. It’s still harder for women to get ahead at work, and they are still being seen as incubators.

What I love about ‘Baby Boom’ is not only the fact that a Harvard graduate, even after moving to the country and giving up her career, still builds a successful business. I am a sucker for views of Vermont, the house she buys, the beautiful scenery. It’s so shockingly beautiful, it’s painful.

Baby-Boom

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And 80s films are best to be watched with the indulgence of something chocolatey…But it is 2015 and now it’s a different type of mousse to be eaten.

Vegan Chocolate Mousse:

vegan chocolate mousse

vegan chocolate mousse

1 avocado

1 tsp almond butter

3 tbsp agave or maple syrup

3 tbsp almond milk

2 tbsp cocoa

1. Put everything in a food processor (first taking the skin off and the seed out of the avocado). Mix until smooth. Transfer into a bowl of your choice and sprinkle with cocoa nibs, any fruit or nut. Enjoy.

vegan chocolate mousse

vegan chocolate mousse

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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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