Cooking for almost 300 people a weekend at Le Pointu means that I’ve lost a bit of the will to cook for myself or anyone else, really. By the time it comes to Sunday night, Thibault and I have flipped hundreds of pancakes, cooked hundreds of eggs, kilos of bacon, made a ridiculous number of acai bowls, chopped countless bananas, made about a hundred scones and, above all, the bacon juices have actually seeped through my pores. It’s delightful, I know, but I can tell you that if there is one thing that will put you off cooking (no matter how much you like bacon), it’s that.

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