Like most twelve year olds, I wanted to fit in. It all changed (and how!) once I was thirteen, but twelve? I wanted the Stussy t-shirt, the perm, and the schoolbag every other girl at my conservative Catholic school had.
It’s hard to fit in at lunch time when everyone has white bread sandwiches and your dad with whom you stay half the week has made you onigiri as big as your head though. It seems laughably naive now in these days of sushi sophistication but whatISthatblackstuffohmygod SEAweed? Ewww.
I would have jumped with alacrity at a sandwich made of this: pain bouillie.
It’s brown without being overly so. It has a subtle, nutty sweetness. It’s homely in the nicest possible way. Slathered with butter or not, warm from the oven, toasted or plain sliced, once you have a bite – you’re hooked.
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Spurred on by my desire, nay insistence upon, eating English style breads in the Austrian hinterlands I bring you: The English Muffins.
Also, I feel like I should do *something* today apart from breaking down on a motor way off ramp and missing my first and only class of the day.
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I decided to make bagels because though the bread here in Austria is totally awesome and varied, I have never seen so much as a single lonely bagel. Nary a one. Not even one of those dumb “I am bread in the shape of a bagel” bagels. No surprise really, since all the Jewish people here probably either fled or met a tragic and horrendous end. May they rest in peace, these bagels are for you (I hope that doesn’t sound flippant, it’s not meant to be). I’ve also never been able to get hold of English muffins or crumpets for that matter (mmmm, CRUHHHM-pets. With butter. And honey…) so perhaps they’ll be my next prodge.
Anyway.
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