When I first moved to Switzerland in 1990, the local bakery was about three minutes down the street. During the morning dog walk, the smell of baking bread permeated the air and if I weren't hungry before sniffing, I was afterward.
I liked my bread well done, and always asked for bien cuit until my housemate and co-worker -- it was a company flat -- complained how the bakery always burned the bread. After that I alternated well done and normal.
In Argelès, there are several bakeries all good.
Geneva has lots of bakeries, but we live just outside the city. That doesn't mean we have to compromise on bread.
There is one supermarket bread that we love from Manora filled with seeds and so crusty.
My grandmother used to bake bread regularly.
When I lived with with a couple in Boston, we had what we called Bill Bread. Our housemate Bill had a bread machine and especially on Sunday morning the baking bread aromas would work their way up the heating ducts as we read the Sunday papers.
When I moved to my own condo, I would often bake bread on Saturdays. The kneading of the dough was a good tension release. I had been known to think of people who had annoyed me during the week as I punched the bread. I never checked to see if the weeks that I used it as a tension release made higher/better bread than the weeks I just kneaded.
In Europe making my own bread is rare. I do it from time to using my grandmother's oatmeal recipe or a classic Annadama bread recipe because these breads aren't available. When I make my bread, I usually fry two or three pieces of the dough for lunch. So good with maple syrup.
Today we thought we'd do a fondue for lunch. The bread we bought yesterday has a thick brown crust.
I can hardly wait.
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