The other day we went to a boulangerie to watch bakers make baguettes. Everything's fresh, so no dyes or preservatives--and the place smells heavenly.
They use some sort of strong olive oil and liquid yeast mixture, which tasted kind of meh to me,
but the bakers were kind enough to let us sample some of their pastries, which were delicious. I ate four... I'm such a pig.
Afterward, we each got to carry home our very own baguette, which we had vented (is that the word for making the slits across the top?) and put into the oven. The bread was really good as a mid-afternoon snack, since everyone in France eats so late, but because we were all nomming on bread in the middle of the street, we looked like a group of awkward Americans--as usual.
I finally had one of these cantaloupes I've been seeing everywhere. They're significantly smaller than the ones we see in America (which may or may not be an indication of the overly genetically modified nature of our produce), but they taste so incredibly sweet.
While making fried rice with the leftover rice from our dinner, I discovered how incredibly incompetent I am at describing cooking terminology in French (how do you say "stir-fry"? "mince"? "scallion"?). One grain of rice managed to jump out of the cooking pan and land on my thumb, which left a surprisingly painful burn, but the food was yummy, and my host mom liked it, so it's all good.
I also accidentally managed to offer to cook dinner for my host family one day. It's like TAS Flavors of Formosa all over again...
They use some sort of strong olive oil and liquid yeast mixture, which tasted kind of meh to me, but the bakers were kind enough to let us sample some of their pastries, which were delicious. I ate four... I'm such a pig.
Afterward, we each got to carry home our very own baguette, which we had vented (is that the word for making the slits across the top?) and put into the oven. The bread was really good as a mid-afternoon snack, since everyone in France eats so late, but because we were all nomming on bread in the middle of the street, we looked like a group of awkward Americans--as usual.
I finally had one of these cantaloupes I've been seeing everywhere. They're significantly smaller than the ones we see in America (which may or may not be an indication of the overly genetically modified nature of our produce), but they taste so incredibly sweet.
While making fried rice with the leftover rice from our dinner, I discovered how incredibly incompetent I am at describing cooking terminology in French (how do you say "stir-fry"? "mince"? "scallion"?). One grain of rice managed to jump out of the cooking pan and land on my thumb, which left a surprisingly painful burn, but the food was yummy, and my host mom liked it, so it's all good.
I also accidentally managed to offer to cook dinner for my host family one day. It's like TAS Flavors of Formosa all over again...
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