Laureline Landry
Bio
I'm escaping mineral lethargy.
Stories (10/0)
Recipe
It is Sally’s turn to teach her daughter Eli how to bake a chocolate cake. She flicks through the pages of the old recipe book that has been in her family for generations until she reaches a page with what looked like a clipping from an old magazine with a beautiful slice of cake, moist, brown, airy looking. Her grandmother’s notes in the margin of the notebook, delicate, carry within them the marks of a somewhat carefree past, one in which children knew what chocolate tastes like.
By Laureline Landry3 years ago in Fiction
Unknown markings
It was long after the end of the war that I decided to go back to the old barn by the house in which I grew up, back in the days when it was still primarily occupied by hens and chicks, and one feisty rooster who would cry loudly throughout the day when I would least expect it. It used to scare the living daylight out of me, I was just a small child back in the day, and would only venture into the barn, terrified, to pick up the precious eggs from the hens' nests once I had deemed it a safe distance away, that would let me run back to the house before he could get to me.
By Laureline Landry3 years ago in Fiction
The Korrigan's Gift
I grew up in a small coastal town that was sleepy ten months out of the year, except for July and August when it seemed like every city-dweller in the country would come flooding in to take refuge on our little piece of the Atlantic coast. They would stay at one of two big resorts located right by the marina and boisterously take over every inch of the local beaches with their lounge chairs, party music, and barbecues. At the time, my family lived in a dingy little shoebox right above the railway that would rattle vigorously for a few seconds once every four minutes when a cargo train would pass by. I had a normal, quiet childhood. During the week, I went to school and play with my friends. On the weekends between mid-September and mid-May, weather permitting, my parents took me to the then-deserted grey-sanded beach, a mere fifteen walk from our home.
By Laureline Landry3 years ago in Fiction
Johny and Joyce
Little Johny's come back to the ocean today. He never leaves for long, of course. Being from a family of ship-dwellers, he can probably count on his fingers the number of days he's spent out of the ocean since he's met Joyce, his lifelong friend when they were both barely old enough to crawl around the boat.
By Laureline Landry3 years ago in Fiction
A House of Stones
If my grandmother were still around, she would say it is a shame that I am not married because I would make a perfect housewife. She would not be wrong: I know how to keep a clean and welcoming house and I have a real knack for cooking. While I follow my family's recipes with reverence, abiding by the written instructions, I also add my own twists to the dishes I compose. It is what makes food interesting today, to combine tradition and modernity, while adapting to changing times, tastes, and ingredients and surprising people with unexpected combinations of flavours. I cannot believe how much ingredients have changed over the course of fifty years. With increased globalisation, I have been able to create new, powerful combinations of aromas and textures that stray well beyond my grandmother's own recipes, and she is without a doubt the most talented cook I have ever met.
By Laureline Landry3 years ago in Feast