I suppose that I could have named this post “Even More Bread.”
Anyway, last week I came across the recipe for Spicy Garlic Bread. I knew that I would make it.
See, I like to make bread, and now that I make it regularly, I dislike buying it. I also have a great guy in my life who likes my bread and sometimes shares bread with his mom.
I was in the grocery store with said guy, when I saw a handsome bunch of basil. He and my son and I had just spent the day together having done an errand, visited the DIA and perusing Eastern Market. I was feeling particularly close to him, so I wanted to bake his mother some bread. This is most certainly not a euphemism.
I have done enough baking that I have a good idea of when it is okay to make variations and when it isn’t. So, in this case I added half of the basil I had spied in the store, and some re-hydrated sun-dried tomatoes.
I made a variation of it for my guy and his mother. However, Alex spied the bread. And when he saw me packing it up, he became distinctly, well, whiny.
But like I said, bread is easy! So I promised him I’d make him one. And I did, but I love trying new things when I’m cooking, and the idea of making exactly the same bread on the same day darn near made me burst into hives.
So, Alex’s loaf had different mix-ins: the rest of the basil, garlic, sun-dried tomato, chopped kalamata olives, and parmesan cheese.
Also, I mixed in this South African spice blend from Trader Joe.
When I asked him what he wanted to have for dinner earlier, he said, definitively, “that bread.”
You see, the little guy is getting old enough that he sees the big guy as competition of sorts. Alex wanted to make sure that if the beau got bread that he, the boy, got bread. It’s all good, Alex’ll see that he has nothing to worry about.
But when I asked him what he wanted to eat with the bread, he only answered, “cheese.”
As much as I love bread and cheese: bread + cheese ≠ a meal.
But, if it’s the way to make my little guy feel secure, I’m with it. Even if he didn’t yet touch a slice, and even if he seemed to have dismissed the idea of bread once he knew I was making it.