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I sincerely doubt there exists anyone who doesn't like pastel. Of course, I don't mean kind of cold, kind of limp, oil dripping pastéis. No.
I mean fresh, warm, crunchy, neat. Fried in new oil. It's not possible to not like those.
A happy eventual addition to the daily lunch, a quick snack at the farmers market (along with that ice cold glass of sugarcane juice) , or even a nice appetizer to serve with beer: that's today's recipe.
After experimenting the four recipes I found in my grandma Nelci's notebooks, I chose the one that came out just like the pastel she used to prepare, and here it goes.


The cliché the title refers to is myself, yours truly. How's that? Like this:
I have been filming very little in the last couple of months, since the economy has been particularly bad this year. I know it reflects in all professional areas, thus in publicity too (which is mostly the films sets which I am in).
So, I have been at home for a good time, cooking and writing, and organizing the blog, and comes a time when I get fed up and have to change the scenery. There lies the cliché: in spite of the many subjects in mind, I got a certain lack of inspiration for writing. So I went to a cafe, and all out of a sudden I can't stop drawing letters on the paper.

Usually, a nearby park is my backyard. But with this nice soft rain falling, I decided to go see this place I've been willing to visit for a while now. I fell in love with it.
In part because on my way there, walking, ideas started to shape themselves without me even noticing it.

As for the unusual, it's that the other day I stumbled upon a pretty bunch of beetroots at home that had no destiny yet, since I've been more interested in the beets' foliage than on themselves. I remembered this cute video a friend recommended ages ago, where they showed the recipe to a flourless beet chocolate cake. That's a combination in which I would not think if nobody told me of it. And, I got to tell you, it's delicious!


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