The market before Thanksgiving and early risers were already buzzing within the hive. They sought organic turkey and whole milk. Hot coffee to keep their hands warm. Their minds alert. Oversized cookies to keep their children distracted and sedated.
I sought two Italian boules and a basket of apples. No more. No less.
I heard quiet rustling upstairs as I wrestled the craggy dough to the floured counter. The oven beeped that it was ready, but it was not.
After some kneading and rolling, I cut rounds and placed them onto parchment for baking.
They're piping hot, but I don't want to take them off the sheet just yet. I had said.
Flip them. He had said.
I flipped the biscuits one by one and placed a tea towel over them.
Their bottoms would no longer brown.
Once home I roasted vegetables (butternut squash, onion, carrot, garlic) for soup.
I left the tray to cool while we ate an early afternoon dinner.