People who bake beautiful bread are superheroes in my estimation.  I’ve always wanted to do that–bake bread.  I asked my Handsome Chef Boyfriend a long time ago to teach me.  He said, bread baking requires the “p” word:  patience.  Too bad for me.  I am one of the least patient people I know.  It is possibly my worst character flaw.

Still, on Saturday HCB announced we were baking country rye bread.

<Yay.>

After he mise-en-placed the ingredients (mise’d-en-place?), he summoned me to do the mixing, offering careful instruction with each step.  After that we shared responsibilities, but I’m not kidding myself. The product that came out of the oven was his.

We stayed in our jammies all day long and ate slices of buttered rye bread hot from the oven.  Every Saturday should be so beautiful.