Something my husband does to unwind: bake.
Normally such a statement would rank up there with: I just found a talking seahorse and he wants to be my friend!
But when I stop to consider the leave of absence my metabolism has taken in the past year, it raises my concern a notch. Or perhaps that was my belt. Either way...this latest thing he's making is...breadsanity.
Pain de mie, dear reader. Have you tried it? Have you toasted it?
It's like sinking your teeth into warm, crisped pound cake, only it's not cake. It's bread! Wondrous, divine, heavenly bread!
If I had to spend the rest of my life on a desert island and could take along just one item, it would be pain de mie. I'd nibble it into the shape of a seahorse and talk to it for awhile, then keep nibbling because I noticed something assymetrical. By the time I had things evened out, the seahorse would be gone and I'd be in a state of total shock.
If I was rushing out of a burning building and realized the top floor was a bakery specializing in pain de mie, well...let's just say I'd be the hero of the day or die trying.
If I was kidnapped and the kidnapper demanded a ransom from my husband of a thousand loaves of pain de mie, I would chew through my gag and shout: DON'T DO IT!! And if the kidnapper wheeled on me in a state of rage for ruining his phone call, I'd alternate between laughing my head off and telling him what it's like to eat a piece of toasted pain de mie.
Who's the hostage now??
These are some of my more normal feelings about pain de mie.