Oh good lord. Recall my mention of a persistant police helicopter Saturday (I think)? Well, turns out there was a police-involved shooting (as in, cops shot and killed someone) at the metro station not a block from me. Joy. My neighborhood is up and down. This is a down.

AmyLiz, the bracelet he was wearing is a support the troops thing, I think. He was probably speeding to the protest, either to help or to see his brother. Or maybe to get him out? At any rate, that was the fire he was trying to get to , metaphorically speaking.

It's just like how they'd probably forgive a speeding ticket if you were trying to get to a dying relative .

I need to celebrate something very important which I have not seen mentioned in this thread in recent days.

Warm Crusty French Bread!

Oh lordy, I forgot how good it was. I bought a sweet baguette the other day figuring I could overcome Emmett's sandwich resistance with a jambon. Then I made myself a little jambon (which is--for the French impaired--french bread, butter and a slice of nice ham). So good! Then I put some in the oven to heat it up. So better! Butter and warm crusty French Bread! Genius! I even made skinny hamburgers for myself tonight to put on my french bread. Extra fantastico.

Tomorrow I shall: heat some up in the oven and eat it with butter and jam; and then make myself a jambon to smuggle into the nearest cafe while I write.

In short...bread good.

Ah! Thanks, guys.

Oh, Hec. I'm trying my best not to eat bread, and now here you are, with the bread porn. Tempter.

Warm Crusty French Bread!

I miss good bread. When I lived in Prague, I lived off of rohlicky. And whatever else was in the baskets. Seriously, fgood bread. In the USSR (really, it existed!) the company (heh , ok and the babuskas who adopted us) stores had this divine bread that was vaguely pretzelish and so fucking good. I've never had it since.

When I returned to the US, a good portion of my culture shock manifested in the bread issue. Part of why I stayed sane was the bakery in Flagstaff. I can't count the times I freaked out (as in, bursting into tears and abandoning the cart) in the bread aisle of Smith's and ran to the bakery.

DH is resisting the turkey brine. He's been brainwashed by self-basting turkeys and doesn't get it. I even broke down the science for him and he just thinks it's more work and not worth it.

Does Alton Brown do interventions?

Mmmm...bread porn.

I can do an excellent imitation of one during mating season.

I'm curious as to why the urge particularly comes upon you while mating.

When I returned to the US, a good portion of my culture shock manifested in the bread issue.

In the Bay Area this is not an issue. We've got multiple local boutique bakeries that distribute to stores, and they're all freakin' tasty. It's one of the nice offshoots of Chez Panisse's influence. People work there and go off and form their own business and the next thing you know: great bread, great pastries, organic herb gardens, chocolatiers.

So I've got the choice between Acme, Semifreddi, Grace, Arizmendi, Noe Valley Bakery and several others. Best sandwich bread? Ciabatta! Oh, mama, that's good with a juicy bunch of meat. It just sops up all the flavor. There's this meatloaf sandwich with mushroom gravy that just about makes me cry it's so good.

lori brined a turkey. It was sublime and really easy. And she's rocket scientist! That should convince him...