The other day I made a bread. A banana bread. Of whole wheat, olive oil and dark chocolate (85%).
The sugar, raw. The eggs, local. A siren of a cake. I mean, a bread. A loaf?
When it had finished baking I placed it on a towel to cool next to a bowl of clementines and a triage of honey and sugar.
That evening we both took a whisper of a slice with our espresso. The kind of espresso that most Americans call short, but in Italy would be considered rather long. A double, at minimum.
The next morning we both took another slice, a hunk. Not a whisper to be a heard. It had cured nicely. The raw sugar and dark chocolate seemed to find one another well. Leaving me feeling clever, once again.
Very clever, indeed.
ReplyDeleteYour words leave me sitting with baited breath - I can just see the whisper and the strong coffee. It seems almost rude to intrude on such moments. Pure poetry and that banana bread, wow.
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