The Language of Bread

Just call me “Little Miss Sunbeam Bread”. When I was little, this doll-like icon with the yellow Betty Grable curls and plump cheeks was my ideal of girlish beauty. But when it came to choosing my “pain quotidien”, it was Wonder Bread everyday.

Ironically, I was raised in a family of good bakers. Each fall and winter, Aunt Margaret’s Vermont kitchen would be full of the scent of her homemade donuts. Grandma Goodrich was queen of the pies; and one year she taught me the tricks of the trade. The result of our first collaboration, miniature sour cherry pies, was the gourmet hit of the church Strawberry Festival. Grandpa Goodrich, on special occasions, would channel his French/Canadian ancestry, and serve up his famous crepes. Aunt Lois, a Southerner, introduced me to the delights of Sally Lunn bread and seven layer cake. However, no one in our family baked bread until along came “moi.”

Once a week, the children and I would take down the big yellow mixing bowl, flour-up, and produce four loaves of bread. The hands-on favorite was Challah or Sabbath loaf (House and Garden’s New Cookbook, p.257). My little apprentices became expert at punching down the giant yeast puffball, and braiding the three pieces of dough into exquisitely tressed creations. Sometimes, just to put a little pizzazz into our routine, we would add raisins and a topping of sugar glaze, or grated cheese. I even attempted, and mastered Julia’s French baguette recipe.

When we went to live in Europe, I hung up my apron because there was so much good local bread to be found. How could I possibly compete with the brot from the bakkerijs in Belgium, or the pain from the boulangeries in France and Switzerland! When in Paris, we would always beat a path to Poilâne on Cherche-Midi, for some of the best rustic loaves and apple tarts ever. Back home in Belgium, we discovered that the same local monasteries so praised for their beer, also made heavenly bread.

European style bread-making has even come to my hometown in Upstate New York. The new kid on the block is Dustin Cutler, whose shop, Normal Bread, is located at 111 Washington Street, Geneva, NY. Dustin apprenticed to Richard Rice at the North Head Bakery in Grand Manan, New Brunswick, and has been in his present location for two years. He uses only 100% organic flour, and almost no sugar or oils. The bread is fermented overnight, and then baked in a four deck steam tube oven.

Et voilà, out comes his crusty signature Levain de pâte and assorted other breads. (Photos courtesy of Doug Reilly/Dandelion Empire.)

Bread culture and history is celebrated around the globe. For a list of bread museums, see http://foodhistorynews.com/directory.html. (Use the search term "bread" under Food Museums.)

For example, Save the Bakehouses is a unique movement to protect and preserve the old baking huts of Belgium. These historic structures are disappearing quickly. Thus far, 2903 examples have been inventoried. For a complete list and slide show see: http://www.mot.be/w/1/index.php/BakehousesEn/Bakehouses

It’s a Wonder-ful World,
Marjorie

Paris in Carmel – Part One

J’adore French style. Hunting and gathering is my game, and over the years my ‘tour de France’ has taken me to shops, flea markets, auctions and brocantes - from Paris to Isle-sur-la-Sorgue to Lyon. This obsession began when we were living in Genève Switzerland, perfected later in rural Belgium, and continues to this day.

In Genève, twice weekly, I would get up early, rush to the end of Chemin des Muguets, and catch a bus to Carouges. Then I would jump on a street car - next stop the flea market at Planpalais. The return trip was just the reverse. With numerous bags of treasure, it was always an exercise in strength and balance. For example, one morning I had the pick of a dealer’s stash of elegant antique Swiss theatre costumes; another time I purchased a rustic country dining table and benches. And, there were always endless stacks of original Beaux arts drawings and piles of finely worked lace curtains to be browsed through, and carried home.

In Belgium, my routine involved waking at 3 am, and making the hour’s drive to the center of Brussels - my destination, the famous Jeu de Bal flea market. Parking three blocks away (bonne chance finding a space nearby), I would run for my life through the shadowy and dark quarter. Arriving, I would join the rugby scrum as each vendor would empty their bags of wares on the pavement. Lots of jostling, pushing, shoving, grunts and cursing would follow. The contents of many an old and venerable household would end up this way. Once, I even got into a wrestling match over some particularly beautiful linen and lace window shades. Guess who won? The most humorous episode involved my excited purchase of thirty monumental baskets once used in the wool trade, and the realization that I couldn’t possibly fit them in my little car. Each morning’s foray would end at about 7 am, with a coffee and croissant, and a car full of booty. I would make the journey home, just in time to wake my sleeping husband.

How happy I was then, to discover troves of French treasures here in Carmel! My first stop was Sabine Adamson’s bijoux of a shop, tucked into a corner of one of the town’s picturesque courtyards (at Dolores Street between 5th and 6th).

Look for Sabine’s vintage Renault 2 CV which she parks nearby. Her yearly excursions abroad have gleaned an array of French wares: from antique printed textiles to Provencal furniture to Biot style pottery, all as charming as the proprietor herself. The day I was there, one of her many fans gifted her with a large carton of freshly-cut lavender. Here and there throughout the shop are exquisite tableaux of natural materials- dried pepper berry, oak leaf crowns, and twigs.


Around the corner at San Carlos and 6th Avenue, is the French-inspired shop Trouvé. Housed in a light and airy space this is a captivating and glamorous mix of antique and decorator pieces, luxurious fragrances and imaginative paper giftware.




Not far away on Dolores between Ocean and 7th, is a tiny shop, aptly named Piccolo.

The imaginative July 4th (or was it for Bastille Day?) window, starred two small mannequins in news-print tricorne hats, bedecked with red and blue ribbons. All of this, just hints at the creativity of the artist-owner, and the eclectic collage of curiosities within.

Some years ago, I had read an article in Victoria magazine about a very special shop in Carmel.

That shop, Tancredi & Morgen, at 7174 Carmel Valley Road, is in a league of its own. It is well worth the short drive out into Carmel Valley. The owners have a terrific eye. They cleverly curate their collection of unusual objects: fabrics, furniture, clothing, and garden pieces, with particular attention to patina, color and decorative appeal.

Among the items that caught my eye were the natural linen cushions, made with dressmaker detail by one of the owners, and a collection of ancient bee skeps.

Vive La France in Carmel!

Marjorie