Today, being Monday, I devoutly ate my meager breakfast then put a healthy dinner in the crockpot. For reasons still unclear to me, the meat didn't cook through by dinner time, making it necessary for us to eat out.
Fortunately, I'd gone off the wagon at lunch.
We supped at a local BBQ joint, feasting on rice and potato salad and grilled pork marinated in a sweet sauce.
A carbohydrate addict's dream.
Then, on the walk home we hit up our favorite bakery. It's a tiny little shop, no bigger than our kitchen at home with a bohemian feel. It's artsy and homey and wonderfully simple.
Even the name: Bbang. It means, plainly, "bread."
And they have the most amazing bread. And muffins. And cake. And cookies. And bread.
Did I mention the bread? Several different kinds of bread. Their old fashioned white bread is to die for. Exactly how you remember grandma's bread tasting.
Tonight we tried their berry bread as dessert.
What I don't get, however, is how the owner stays so slim. How? Does she not eat bread? Or rice? Or potato salad?
It's a real mystery. One I intend to solve. And to do so I will have to keep going back there. To research.
Every Monday. After noon.
Carbs don't count if they're ingested in the name of science. I'm pretty sure.
She probably doesn't sweat either kneading loaves amidst the ovens. I had such a hard time with bread when I was there! Here's the acid test: does she make hot dog buns? In packs of 12?
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