Bubble Writing Happy Birthday

Tuscan Crostini

Each lunch "Celebration of" self-respecting, in Tuscany can not disregard the croutons blacks.
There are many versions as there are people who make them: this one uses the livers of rabbits, but unless we find even the chicken will make their figure. The doses are all indicative, because we need to go even to "taste" ... I say, I do not put more than a tablespoon of capers and onion for 500 gr. chicken liver, but there are those who use it more.
It is a white onion and fry you first join the chicken hearts, livers shortly after. when they are almost cooked and starting to smell can be removed and passed through the mincer (ideal would be to crank with the electric smasched careful not too much).
Put into a pan of chopped capers and anchovy salted filleted and brown, and when you will defeat the anchovy, add the chopped chicken livers and continue to cook until completely cooked. Season with salt and add a bit of butter before you put out the fire.
bread to use, or Tuscan baguette, toast it slightly earlier. Some sprinkle lightly with meat stock or vin santo (this variant can not please everyone though).

Dancing With Sitting On Man Chest

I 'Borbottino

When my grandmother Ida was on its' rags (that was fine, healthy) and even cooking, often made the "borbottino, very simple dish but I loved it. It 's a wet offal of chicken and rabbit, which remained after the owners had already been eaten by other means. If my grandmother did not have enough livers to make the sauce, or did not want to mettercisi, who also ended up in here with the heart and borbottino Paracorio (the lungs) of these delicious (their) farm animals. He took
offal, the flour and let brown a little 'oil and a clove of garlic in a saucepan. Once browned, add plenty tomato (which "mumbling" cooking) and sage and finished cooking, with salt and pepper.
Serve with some bread, because there goes away.

Brzydula Pl Odcinki Online

was so long since I went there about a year, maybe more ... a magical place ... a secret garden ... A rock garden, steeples, strangely shaped pinnacles as high as six, seven yards ... a place for elves ... castle rock, mysterious caves ... a labyrinth, a chaos in which lytic'd be playing for hours as a child.

E 'early afternoon when I decide to go to Mount Cocuzzo, a little voice calling me from up there is from this morning, just got up that I feel is right there in the middle of the rocks that I want touch, caress, scrutinize the forms ... I want to go alone, I need to think, to understand what is happening to me, I want to feel the freedom of the mountains without interference, I want to wander without a goal but with time ...
In the bag put on my climbing shoes and chalk bag ...

Park the car, immediately leave the road climbs up on top of that, unfortunately, (I always pretend there is) and cut free the west side of the mountain that faces the pointing to the sea side opposite from which it is here now, that is still intact, unaffected by human hands, where solitude reigns. Meanwhile, the large masses of water vapor are rising and begin to wrap all that is around me ... at a certain height but not stop, do not rise to the top, arriving about one hundred meters further down from where I am, but are surrounding the mountain, I begin to understand that the desired "sea of \u200b\u200bclouds" today decided to delight of his presence! Emotions start to run into me, giving way ... I would like to share it with someone, it's a shame, it's selfish to keep them all for me, too many, I fill the soul until it almost burst ... phone to a person dear to me, I know who can understand what I am living .. .

Continue on steep terrain of rocky debris until it crosses the ridge south of here I can see "BANDS", as they are called ...

When I arrive I can not help but give me a tour of the incredible towers, are many times now that I've been there but I have not explored all the recesses of this geological paradise, every time I see new and curious forms.

Then the call of cold stone becomes deafening, unbearable ... I touch her, calm her down ... I hear the screams ... or maybe it's the kid in me that makes all this noise ...

... I can even make me some self-timer ...

In return I get to the top as the sun sets behind the tired sea of \u200b\u200bcolorful clouds everything, including the statue of St. Francis I find cemented on a rock, perhaps by the inhabitants of Fiumefreddo Bruzio supervise them because from there, since it looks perfectly towards the Tyrrhenian small town.

With this wonderful sunset closes an afternoon "above the clouds, some of this hermit, a little crazy by ... along with my weaknesses, along with my certainties, along with my dreams ...