“Life is just a shit sandwich” – discuss. There are those of us that read, when seated on the porcelain throne, and those that write. The writers among us seem to choose to do this on walls and only in public lavatories as, to this point, I have never seen any pithy epithets scribbled on the walls of the lavatories in the homes of friends and family, yet those straining scribes must have homes to go to which means that either I don’t know any of them or that it may well be a natural law which prevents the writing hand from creating on home soil (apposite, eh?). I say this in passing (close!) as it was bread that was on my mind this morning rather than coprophagia. On firing up my computer yesterday I noticed that the Google logo featured the “Decrét Pain” which led me to use Google to Google information on that which was decreed in that Decrét and when. As a decree it wasn’t very interesting and, as with the majority of decrees, not heeded or, when it was, not very successfully: which is a shame as bread is a daily pleasure for me and I wish our baker would heed the Lord’s prayer and give me my daily bread as opposed to demanding money for it…another example of an unsuccessful decree. The upshot of the Décret Pain is that, although it’s attempt to stop the inclusion of additives in bread was well meaning and sensible, it appears that it has not been entirely successful in seducing the populace to eat more bread. In fact, the reverse is true meaning that the French are eating less bread which is a shame as they are replacing the snacked warm baguette with gobfulls of the crap that they didn’t used to eat and so, rather than the svelte derrière Francaise that was universally ogled, soon they will sport the fat arse that is the badge of affluent Western society. On the brighter side of the coin there is a surge in popularity for artisan bakers who are defined thus: “an artisan baker is one who is trained to the highest ability to mix, ferment, shape and bake a hand crafted loaf of bread. They understand the science behind the chemical reactions of the ingredients and know how to provide the best environment for the bread to develop”. We have a good baker in our local village who, from the taste of his bread, complies with this description yet sensibly does not have a sign which defines him as a ” boulanger artisanal”. In today’s world of self promotion there is only room for positive superlatives, which makes terms such as the best, the biggest, and the most appear meaningless as there is no comparative, so I’m delighted to go to this small boulangerie that is always running out of bread because the bread is so good. The shop will close at 2.30, denuded of bread, only to reopen at 4.oo with shelves and baskets filled with freshly baked, still warm, breads and pastries. Our daily bread is a twofold operation here in France.
With regard to the opening proposition: It is clear that the more bread one has, the less of the filling one has to eat. As bread is in such short supply for the majority of the planet’s population the proposition remains undeniably true.