There are not many things I can think of that are nicer than a freshly baked baguette when it’s still warm… Mmm (Miam). No meal is complete unless there is bread on the table in this country, and I think I’d drop a whole dress size if it wasn’t so damn moreish.
When in England, I’m embarrassed by our pathetic attempts at making French bread. Surely it is just a question of following a simple recipe? The things masquerading as baguettes in Tesco are in my experience just long thin loaves of English bread. The true test being that the longer you keep them, the soggier they get.
Anyone who is well acquainted with French baguettes will know that after approximately half a day they are past their best, and if you keep one overnight the only possible use you could have for it the next day is if you want to beat someone unconscious with it.*
Unlike English bread, the important part is the crust. In fact the Frog scoops out the soft middle bit (la mie) and leaves it in squished up balls on the side of his plate. At the bakers you can ask for a well-done baguette or a less well-done one. A word of advice: if you intend to tuck the baguette under your arm in truly clichéd fashion, well-done is better suited to this purpose. Anything else will bend in the middle and dangle flacidly down at both ends.
*ok, I admit I can think of some other uses. My extensive research yielded the following fact of the day: in Ancient Greece, Athenian lower classes (who couldn’t afford expensive dildos) used to make do with baguettes baked in the shape of male genitalia. So there you go. Can’t do that with a floured bap now, can you?
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however, the rest of the post made me want to fly to france for a baguette.
Comment by sarcomical — September 23, 2004 @ 11:13 am
now that IS extensive research.
There is one reason that I’m glad I don’t live in France is that my passion for french breads and pastries knows no bounds and I’d be as fat as a house. Pt cakes are pretty good (except the complete lack of ability to make a crème patissière that’s not made purely from eggs and sugar, hence vile and bright yellow), English cakes have their moments, but nothing surpasses French bread and cakes. Ugh.
Comment by vit — September 23, 2004 @ 11:51 am
I can never see, eat, or even read the name of a baguette these days without thinking of the wonderful song ‘Geraldine’ on Ian Dury’s swansong album ‘Mr Love Pants’ with its suggestive lyric:
http://www.countrybumpkin.ndo.co.uk/geraldine.html (and smiling to myself)
Comment by Zinnia Cyclamen — September 23, 2004 @ 11:52 am
By golly griefus, I understand you completely! I never touched bread till I came to france, let alone Paris. Every other boulangerie here seems to be a gem, and the bad boulangeries, nobody goes to them so they go out of business, fast.
baff. other day I caught myself actually baking. Funny thing about that fat comment, though, since I’ve been here, for the last two years, I’ve gorged myself on all sorts of fatty delights, and never gained a pound for it. Do you think there’s something in all those narrow streets thats helping us lose weight?
Nardac 10.12.04 – 5:58 am | #
Comment by Nardac — October 12, 2004 @ 7:11 pm