…Again?

I’m taking a break from the normal recipe post by instead posting a story from every day life here. It does have to do with food, by the way—don’t freak out too much.  

So Wednesday night I made a batch of bread dough, let it rise overnight in the fridge, and woke up at 7 am to bake it and do homework. Pretty normal, right? I mean, I was in the kitchen putting the bread into the oven and the French guy down the hall was sitting on the couch drinking his typical breakfast cup of hot chocolate and watching the BBC, and all was well with the world. Well, it gets better. Last night I made American mac and cheese and sausages for some friends. With bread on the side. It was indeed very tasty. Well, what we didn’t eat I just left with my friend, leaving me again with no bread for sandwiches (lest you forget—peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are the best ever. They also happen to be my favorite food group. I usually eat at least one every day. I mean really…nutritious and yummy…like the best thing ever, right?) So it was down to either buying a loaf of sliced bread from Tesco’s last night (an option? I don’t think so.) or making bread again. Well, duh…last night the first thing I did upon returning was to make another batch of bread dough. I mean, after making a cup of peppermint tea—that was a given. Again, I woke up at 7 this morning to do homework and cook my batch of bread (pardon me while I rescue said bread from the oven…) Well, there we were again. I was putting bread into the oven and Florien was sitting on the couch watching the BBC and drinking his morning cup of hot chocolate. He just kind of stared at me…”Making bread again? You must be like a French girl! Bread is very much a French thing, is it not?” Yes, well…it’s necessary for life. So there.