I am lucky
that I have excellent bakers within walking distance of where I live. I must
admit I cannot understand anyone living more than walking distance from a bakers.
I’ve a sister in law who picks up half a dozen baguettes from the super market
once a week and then freezes them. Why bother to live in France. I can remember
being broke in Paris in my teens looking in bakers windows without a sou to buy
a crumb.
In fact I
tend to buy the kind of bread that goes with whatever meal I will be eating. I
find industrial bread gives me a bloated stomach and I never touch it. On the
rare occasions I go to England I generally avoid bread.
It is true
though that as I now have a very varied diet including rice and pasta etc. I do
not eat bread with every meal. The art is to develop good relations with the
baker, usually the wife or her assistants who serve in the shop and make sure
they give you the exact shade of golden brown that one is happy with.
Bread is
one of those civilized aspects of France that outlive politicians who probably
have no idea what a baguette costs. When is the last time anyone saw a minister
walking home after work with a baguette in his hand?
No comments:
Post a Comment