So I met this amazingly hot blond chick who, it turns out, is Persian. She looks nothing like it and, despite the fact that she's only been here 3 years, she speaks flawless English. Not just English, but Northeastern American English. There is no hint whatsoever that she hasn't lived in this town her whole life. I actually kind of wish she'd retained the accent, but hey, nobody's perfect.
Anyway, this weekend I'm going to teach her how to make baguettes from scratch. We'll be mixing, kneading, fermenting, steaming and baking. It should be interesting. I can't wait to see what she looks like with a streak of flour across her cheek and gobs of dough stuck between her fingers.
I got some unglazed quarry tiles to bake on and we'll be steaming up the inside of the oven with a pan of water and a spritzer. Trying to make this bread not only as authentic as possible, but as fun to make as well.
Mmm. Food and women. Throw a beer in there and I'm in heaven. I hope she drinks. So sick of these goodie-goodies that won't touch even a drop of alcohol.