As a child on holiday in France, I could never understand the French families who nibbled greedily on warm baguettes straight from the boulangerie. Not to wait for some salty butter and sweet, apricot jam seemed ridiculous. They must have been ravenous or simply ignorant. A pain au chocolate, or a pain au raisin could easily be scoffed before stepping out of the shop but plain, old baguette – nope, I never understood.
Until that is, we moved to the south of France in 2002. Perhaps it was my increased appetite due to pregnancy or toddlers, more pregnancies and again more toddlers, or perhaps I just wanted to fit in to a foreign land but before the first month was up, the smell of a fresh baguette heating my hand was utterly irresistible.
You don’t just ask for a baguette in France. Like with their meat, it’s all in the cooking – ‘Bien cuite’, ‘Pas trop cuite’ or ‘Blanche’. (Translated roughly as well cooked, medium or rare). It’s always ‘Blanche’ for me but never forget that no two bakeries are alike and everyone living in France will have their unshakeable favourite. For our family, it’s l’Amandine in Calvisson every time but Aux 13 Desserts in Caveirac is a close second, especially for their scrumptious tarts.
Now we live in London for the majority of the year, I am on a quest to find my perfect baguette on this side of the Channel. Despite some excellent local bakeries, the ‘desperate to stuff it in your mouth’ baguette, has so far eluded me. This is the beginning of my quest, so I will keep you posted but if anyone has any hot tips, I will happily go hunting. We are in North London but I am eager to travel all over the big smoke for that satisfying stick of bread which promises happiness, holidays and to me, tantalising food to come.