Weekend Cooking: Bread as religion

We were supposed to be in France this weekend, not in Champagne, but in Normandy. I was hoping to find some amazing boulangerie or patisserie on our travels but alas we can't even go and find a patisserie here, let alone there.

When I read The Vineyards of Champagne earlier this year there were a few scenes that made me want to be in France,  eating bread, right now. This was one of them

The next day Rosalyn helped Emma into the front passenger's seat and climbed in the back with Emma's crutches.

At the butcher a few towns over, Emma and Blondine argued over which basket to buy and which pate was : the pate de campagne or the truffled  mousse. At the fruit stand, Emma  and Blondine argued over whether to buy apples  or pears, clementines or Valencia oranges, or dried fruits like plums, apricots, and dates.

And that was nothing compared to the long, drawn-out discussion at the counter of the boulangerie. Blondine insisted on bread that was pas trop cuit, not too cooked, which engendered yet another heated discussion with Emma, who was staunchly of the opinion that a well-browned baguette was best. Soon the baker emerged from the rear of the store to weigh in on the proper degree of doneness of a perfect baguette, and several other customers waiting their turn to order chimed in.

Rosalyn stayed out of it, relishing the opportunity to examine the baked goods on display. The boulangerie wasn't a patisserie - a shop that specialized in pastries and desserts - but nonetheless sold delectable looking choux, or cream puffs, as well as eclairs, madeleines, macarons, meringues  and tartes aux fruits, which were miniature open-faced fruit and custard tarts..How in the world did the French stay so skinny?

The boulangerie smelled like heaven, and Rosalyn hoped the scent would linger on her clothing the way the cigarette smoke had after the Epiphany party.

The disputants in the Great Baguette Debate at last called a truce - neither side had convinced the other, though all agreed the proprietor of the boulangerie had the best bread in all of Champagne - and  to appease Emma, Blondine bought several baguettes in varying  degrees of doneness, as well as an assortment of other breads to bring home with them.

Back in the car and once again en route to visit Madame Bolze, Blondine ripped off the heel of a baguette and handed it to Rosalyn.

"It's called le quignon, the bit you eat on the way home," she explained.

"There's a name for that?" asked Rosalyn, and took a bite  of the delicious fresh baguette.

"You don't even want to know how many words the French have to describe all types of bread, bread creation, and bread consumption," said Emma, letting her head fall back on the headrest and breathing out a weary sigh. "I'm telling you, it's a religion."

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