Rainy days breed comfort food. What is it about being at home, hearing rain outside, and wanting to submerse yourself in all things cozy? Pajamas, multiple cups of coffee, hot, sultry jazz...
This morning I woke up to the sound of rain on the street. A gentle tapping, the sound was enough to dismiss my want of walking to the bakery for bread. I very much enjoy the pan integral from the bakery on my street. It is a small, sandy-coloured baguette (perfect for one) spotted with specks of grain. Inside, it is light, doughy, and un-heavy compared to the whole-grain loaves I have had in the U.S. This was what I wanted...but did not dare venture outside, even if it was a mere block away.
Comfort food. And comfort food is where the heart is. Spain has been a gentle friend to me, sometimes sour but more often sweet, and I wanted her hug: Warm, toasted bread with oil and salt.
With my flatmates still away for holiday break, I took full advantage of using the kitchen. My kitchen. Like my previous post, I decided to make flatbread again. This flatbread which I was taught to make hails from Africa, which is a short boat-ride away. It is because of this, I affectionately call this bread pan árabe. I could call it flat bread, pan plano, but today I cooked it properly for the first time: Portions gently rose forming bubbles reminding me of another Moroccan bread I have had, so pan árabe it is.
My coffee is steaming beside me. I am chewing on warm, freshly made bread. My tougue gets that tasty flick of salt is has been craving. I am warm, blogging, and completely content. Yes, the errands will have to wait for another day...
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