I am newly 24.
This is what I remember:
1. At 17, a blistering scald on my finger from Italian meringue and Italian meringue buttercream, all for the sake of macarons. A plaster still on my finger when I went on that once-in-a-lifetime school trip to Florence. (Year 13 History of Art and Photography. We felt grown up drinking rosé in view of the duomo.) Continue reading
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