I used to work with a guy that had multiple food allergies ranging from wheat gluten to chocolate. He said he shopped the outside of the grocery store—produce, meats, dairy, and bakery. That way he avoided all the pre-made and processed foods in the middle. Last night at the grocery store I managed to almost completely avoid the middle of the store and it felt good. Go on, I thought to the people behind me in line, admire my virtuous selection of raw goods. They did not admire.
Last night’s bread count: two. Well, one type but two loaves. It was my first shot at the Cook’s Illustrated wheat bread. It came out beautiful and smelled great. Toast this morning confirmed that it is soft and wheaty. But somehow I like the hiivaleipa more, though it’s a bit more dry. But this recipe is good and certainly a good match with the heavenly sandwich bread.
I had great fun last night watching Baby Harbat eat dinner. She flapped her arms like a penguin in impatience as her omelet cooled, then dove into it like an adrenaline-rich tiger after a kill. No time for fork, no time for chewing. She threw back her sippy cup and gulped water as if she’d been crawling through the Sahel in mid-summer. After a few spittle-flying minutes, she looked up stunned, and held out her hands, palms up. More? This may explain her Hitchcockian profile: belly, jowls, and neck rolls. But she only weighs eighteen stone. That’s normal for 1 ½ years, right?
Writer, architect, father, husband.
OMG! She does look like Hitchcock!