Baccal lesso Boiled Salt Cod

Baccal Stuffed Zucchini Flowers

Bondfire Flames

“Are you happy?”

This...bonfire thing wasn't a great idea, in his mind, but Hanno had really wanted his BBQ. The well-known Faerin warrior told anyone who would listen that he had been denied it day in and day out for over four years at this point. And with all the chaos happening outside of this quaint little village, Hanno thought—no, he believed—that the people needed merriment. And who was Asher to say no to Hanno's request?

They had hunted, they had spoken with the best butcher in the villager, and then they had rented out the only Tavern and Inn that this place had. It had cost a pretty penny, but to see the smiling, laughing faces made it worth-while. That's what Hanno had said before slapping him on the side and stalking forward to join a crowd that welcomed him with cheers and laughter. And that's when Asher had saught out Rael, planted himself by her side, and started contemplating the world at large while sipping from his drink.

He wanted that for Rael; to smile easily, to be welcomed by friends with open arms instead of having accusations and threats flung at her for not doing enough or, in some asinine cases, doing too much.

Asher's hand slinks out from hanging limply at his side so that his fingers can brush against the backs of hers while his other hand continued to grasp the wooden mug filled with raspberry ale. It wasn't his favorite, because Asher was not prone to indulging in alcohol to begin with, but it would do, for now.

“Things have been...insane,” he whispers to her, his crimson eyes darting away from the dancing, flickering flames to instead focus on the profile of her face. They drop to the bow around her throat and a frown tugs at the divot between his brows, but he says nothing. He's been saying nothing for a while now and the thought overcomes him so suddenly that he inhales, the sound sharp in the heavy silence between them. And that makes him clear his throat and move his attention to the ground while his hand falls back against his side, forgotten.

“The earthquakes, the disappearances, the—I see you take on so much, Rael, and I wish you'd lean on me. That you would fee comfortable enough to lean on me.”

He pauses, his tongue wetting his lips before retreating between his teeth and out of sight. “This was—this is—supposed to be a happy thing. People are supposed to be happy here, forget about everything outside of this little event for the night, but I can't help but...think...that that's impossible for you. And,” he exhales a long, hard sigh, his shoulders drooping as his chest deflates, “I really want that for you. Happiness. A moment of respite.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up into a half-cocked smirk, but the humor of the moment doesn't reach his eyes. He forces himself to stand straight, pull his shoulders back, and take a long, sour pull from his drink. And when he's done, he shakes his head and grins at him, his sharpened canines more pronounced against the shadow of orange flames. “Maybe I'm just reading it wrong,” he tells her. “Wouldn't be the first time...”

“Who the fuck is Smitty Baccall?”

Finding the Best Maths Teacher for IB and IIT Preparations: Bhaskar Classes

In the pursuit of academic excellence, finding the right math teacher becomes a cornerstone for students aiming for the International Baccalaureate (IB) or aiming to crack the challenging IIT entrance exams. The quest for the best maths teacher, be it for IB or IIT, often involves a search for proximity and expertise. Here's a comprehensive guide on navigating this crucial decision-making process.

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Lauren Baccal, sunset boulevard

To Have and Have Not (1944)

Not  everyone  can  say  they’ve  been  to  the  Big  Apple,  but  VIVIAN  BACALL,  a  FORTY-FIVE  year-old  CISWOMAN  has  lived  in  UPPER  EAST  SIDE,  MANHATTAN  for  TEN  YEARS.  This  is  the  city  of  dreams  and  SHE/HER  knows  it,  because  they  came  to  NYC  to  be  an  EDITOR  FOR  VOGUE  MAGAZINE.  Well,  that  and  a  PARTNER  IN  CRIME  to  JULIAN  CANOVA.  Living  in  the  city  means  they  meet  all  kinds  of  people,  but  everyone  always  seems  to  think  they  look  like  SARAH  PAULSON.  They  even  got  away  with  free  cab  fare  once  because  of  it!

꙳    𝐈    ,       square - cut or pear - shaped

full name.   vivian baccal

nickname(s).   viv

age.   forty - five

birthday.   november 20   --   scorpio sun

hometown.   san francisco,  california

current location.   manhattan,  new york

ethnicity.  caucasian

nationality.  american

gender.  cis woman

pronouns.  she/her

orientation.  homosexual

꙳    𝐈𝐈    ,       these  rocks  don’t  loose  their  shape

When walking into the Vogue office, there’s no way you won’t be noticed by her. She’s the one keeping an eye on everything and making sure everyone knows exactly how to get their job done  -  and she’s great at it too,  thanks.  Vivian is as lively and easy-going as a journalist is allowed to be;  a fashion fiend by nature and a Vogue enthusiast by heart, she takes pride in managing photoshoots and magazine issues only to have it fit the high standards of one Mrs. Anna Wintour. Definitely also rocks that hairstyle in a much more fashionable way than the boss, but ask her and she’ll humbly deny it. Most times. And that’s when she’s around the office. Out of it, Vivian finds herself as part of a heist crew with a couple of her closest friends. All in the name of good friendship  -  and a few thousands of dollars here and there, duh.

꙳    𝐈𝐈𝐈    ,       diamonds  are  a  girl’s  best  friend  !

Vivian has always dreamed of working in the fashion industry,  and experience has only made it better.  Along with her position at Vogue,  comes the responsability of keeping track of fashion weeks,  managing contacts for issues and occasionally collaborating with articles.

Her first experience with crime was at a young age,  when her then girlfriend, previously experienced with small cons,  convinced her to take a small part on an amusement park heist.  Viv was instantly hooked.

As time passed and her career as a journalist evolved,  doing cons was no longer a necessity, and Vivian stopped being a con for a little while.  However,  she was never really able to resist temptation when one of her old crewmates showed up with a new and exciting plan.

Viv’s an easy-going and fun figure to have around,  although extremely professional and ambitious.  Her job always comes first,  but she’s more often than not going out and creating connections  -  supposedly in the name of Vogue, but hey, she’s just human, right? And the city’s packed with stunning women... 🤭

Per Tripparia

Jacob Kenedy's Favourite Italian Recipes

Point Out La Dolce Vita, Fellini's masterpiece, and also even today the title conjures a substantial fond memories for a duration whose ghosts still load the streets of Rome. The film was partially influenced by my grandparents, previous Hollywood star Ginny (still quite active) and [New York gallerist] John" especially by the parties they tossed at their apartment in Rome. There, in the primo piano of Palazzo Caetani, the stunning elite, the literati, the artists, glitterati and artists and actors and singers made and also lived as well as taken a breath la dolce vita to the background of a Rome very various from today's. Fellini asked Ginny to look like Steiner's partner, yet she decreased" rather Steiner's residence is a facsimile of her old apartment. My grandma's porcelain figurine lamps light the scene of Steiner's event, her good friends load it (consisting of Iris Tree), as well as Ginny's naive paints embellish the wall surfaces in the movie. The doll-like picture behind Marcello's head, among hers, is of my young mum, Haidee, and Steiner's children stand in the doorway of the celebration room as my mama utilized to. Unlike Ginny's often surreal structures my mum's job is visceral and active. Her paints embellish my dining establishment Bocca di Lupo and also specify my new endeavor, Vico, outdoors as well as in. She filled me with her love from the day I was birthed, and she loaded me with food while she was at it. I matured in love with her, crazy with Italy, and also crazy with la dolce vita" the time as well as place that bore her. I feel comfortable when I land on Italian dirt, though I have actually never ever lived there and also have no Italian blood in my capillaries. I appreciate" wish for" Latin social simplicity, when I myself am as well shy to say hello there to individuals even in my very own restaurant. Therefore I take every chance to see, to ensure that I can at the very least pretend to live "the pleasant life", the land where no person is a stranger. On one browse through, Mum as well as I pick up a day in Rome en route to Sperlonga, the seaside town where John bought a level to escape Ginny's parties, and which we still maintain. We see her old residence, by Largo Argentina, ever before overwhelmed by feral cats, as well as discover the doorman's half-deaf, partner and also half-blind, set in the lodge, healing clothing. She screams with pleasure when she identifies Mama. A couple of minutes on as well as we are in the darkness of the Pantheon's dome, at Caff" Sant Eustachio, a little roastery where the coffee is poisonous substance nectar as well as the baristas so intoxicated with high levels of caffeine their skin has a spooky eco-friendly shade. It's just a number of speeds even more to Tre Scalini on Piazza Navona, which Domitian built to flood for his boat video games. There we scoff notorious tartufo (Italian rocky roadway gelato pieces) perched on Bernini's water fountain. Onwards to Campo de' Fiori, we acquire pieces of pizza al taglio and head in the direction of the ghetto, passing by Filetti di Baccal" where rotund matrons must be frying slim strips of salt cod and we're conserved! It's shut. From the destroyed arches of the Coliseum we cross the river to Trastevere, and also choose we are as well full to eat dinner at da Enzo. We go by to release our booking, which anyway they have actually lost. It scents so excellent we recant, and also spend time for a table. Later, we stroll along the Tiber for a grattachecca" cut ice, an icy relic of Emperor Nero's penchant for snow brought down from the mountains and also sweetened with fruit syrups, ours spiked with vodka, to reduce us right into the night. Never for a moment have we stopped walking, talking or eating. By doing this of eating" proper, rarefied and also tasty snacks consumed on the unguis" is typical of Italy. The young gather agreeably in the piazza, and everyone takes a night passeggiata, mingling and also talking and also revealing off. Eating gelati, crespelle (crepes), bombe (donuts), arancini, pizze, panini, polpette. This is road food here" not because it is cooked in the street necessarily, by a pedlar or from a van, yet because it is eaten there. And also there, in the acts of eating and talking as well as conference and strolling, is the heart of that Mediterranean social fluidness we are so jealous of in England.

Lauren Baccall en voyage à Jaipur, Inde, 1958. - source Another Vintage Point.

Waiting

Asher sits perched on the edge of his chair, his leg bouncing beneath it, the blunted fingernails of his right hand drumming against the ale-soaked wood. The tavern was near empty, the sun sinking below the horizon and casting long swaths of orange light against the far wall.

His crimson gaze is pinned to the stairs, to the pockmarked banister, to the threadbare carpet that marches up the middle. He's waiting, for the second day in a row, for her to appear. His brows furrow as he concentrates on just that, on Rael's smile as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, of her laugh when she finds him strung tight with tension, thinking she had been hurt or disappeared.

He hasn't seen her since the earthquakes started, since people were being shuffled from the major cities and moved to safer villages where the buildings weren't so tall. But this had always been the end point of their day, her safe space after her meetings and talks and the demands of people who wanted her time. And now...

Now Asher was sick with worry because she hadn't come down from her room for two days, hadn't logged in for two whole days. His chest was tight, there were bags beneath his eyes, and his mop of snow-white hair looked bedraggled and greasy. He couldn't remember the last meal he had scarfed down, didn't want to contemplate eating or drinking when she wasn't beside him.

She wouldn't have just stopped playing, right? She would have said something, perhaps confided in him that she was feeling burned out or that she was needed more in the real world than here or that her significant other wanted her to stop spending so much time with her VR device. All of those things made sense. They also made his stomach curdle uncomfortably and he found himself popping his knuckles in mild agitation, but they all, logically, made sense.

Her disappearance was something he couldn't understand—wouldn't accept. And so, he waited.

Cafe Cats - Baby Baccall - “Baby B” 2/10

One of the younger cats (aged 9), often referred to as the ‘sweetheart’ of the bunch and likes hanging out by the sofa near the fireplace, will often nap on people. Blind in one eye.

not looking past the bright buttons on wendy's fancy blouse (or not knowing her well), one could never guess what kind of michevous plan was going on her head. a few months ago, nothing seemed worse than not being able to contain herself, considering her highly-publicized divorce. she had to look perfect, to look happy, to look better than ever. turning into the kind of woman to become intensely bitter after a sorrowful divorce was something to desperately avoid, and for that, as silently as someone so... intense as her could, she tried to recollect the little lost pieces of her life and herself. yoga classes, two sessions of therapy every week, attending ridiculous parties, she had done it all to prove to people (and to herself) that she was fine. she was doing great. everything was ok.

she was over pretending to herself that she was over it. rupert had done a good job destroying her image to the press and letting himself be photographed with the 20 year old girl he was dating, so what was she even holding out for? what she even had to lose? she was bitter, she was miserable, she was angry and, the most important, she was ready to do anything to feel like herself again. destroying rupert's beloved soccer team (the team that wasn’t even supposed to be hers, as a matter of fact) would be nothing compared to the pain he purposefully inflicted on her, but enough of a good start, and her own customized version of you oughta know.

“well, hello!” bright wide smile, open arms, ready to give natalya baccall a good handshake, the same one who strolls through the hallway, you’d think it’s the most important day of winifred’s life. hiring an american football (or was it hockey? or hockey is too much canadian?) coach instead of a proper soccer coach was insane, she knew too, and that very coach being someone who looked so unserious as natalya certainly didn’t help, but it was also efficient enough for her to achieve her goals. the whole team would be done way before the end of the season. “and here comes our big shot of the day, after all. i'm winifred grant, your brand new boss, you'd say. we were all anxiously waiting for you."

5. Humphrey Bogart

Who was he

For this 5th place I hesitated between him and Greta. Yes I know she’s not ranked at all, I love to provoke. BACK TO IT. Yep Humphrey is 5th. And I know this is controversial because his myth is so strong that he’s always raNked 1st on every best list i’ve seen. But I have to make another confession: I don’t LOVE him. I’m not amazed by him, but sometimes you gotta join everybody in clapping the ones considered as great and timeless. And that’s the case of M. Bogart. His style was class incarnated, he oozed confidence, wisdom and kindness. He had this fatherly aura. He was absolutely loved by anyone who witnessed his grace. He was popular and loved by the critics: “La Nouvelle Vague” payed him tribute in classic such as  A bout de souffle. He succeeded He influenced the influencers of all the influencers of our generation: Marlon Brando. His acting was in rupture with the last century style.  Born in 1899, this son of a morphine addict surgeon father and of an alcoholic mother, became surprisingly a family man: yes it took him 4 marriages  to find the love of his life, “The look” “The voice” Lauren Baccall with whom he had 2 children, but he survived to his tragic childhood and became a hollywoodian God.

Best Films:

The treasure of the Sierra madre

The Maltese Falcon

Personnal Favorite:

Casablanca: You need to watch it for his couple with Ingrid Bergman. They are EVERYTHING.

SPECIAL MENTION: AFRICAN QUEEN. I know it’s the 2nd time i’am mentioning to you this one but it’s really great and my queen Katheryn slays it again GO WATCH IT

Heirs:

Marlon Brando, Jean Paul Belmondo, Gary Oldman, …

Stay tuned to discover the 4th legend with tiny hands (no it’s not the orange racist gorilla who’s now best friend with Kanye.)

To Have and Have Not (1944)