The local town has a bakery on virtually every street and, being Italy, it's difficult to buy poor bread just as it's difficult to eat badly in a restaurant or trattoria. However, bread prices have rocketed recently which is why this place is now even busier than ever (before you start I know it doesn't look busy but the customers got out of the way for the photo). This is a local commie co-operative and the bread and foccaccia is about half the price of that sold by the thieving capitalists who run the normal bakeries. It's good stuff too. Note the patronal saint of murder squads gazing out implacably over a throng of buyers who couldn't give a stuff about Santa Clara.
Being a soundly-principled Conservative of course I now never go anywhere else.
11 comments:
Please tell me that Peppone is the local Mayor!! (or am I the only person who has read Don Camillo?)
No Afa; you're not the only one. I read Don Camillo at school. Now I know more about Italy, thanks in no small part to the in-depth comment and analysis made available by Ron Combocelli, I may even read them again.
Ron. I'd enjoy all the bread you can before the riots. Only a matter of time, according to our own dear Chancellor.
That's enough politics; if foccaccia nicking another loaf I'll call the Carabinieri. Snarf.
Did I ever tell you about my brush with the Carabinieri? It was outside Genoa Principe railway station, and five of them were sitting in a dark blue and white short wheelbase Landrover. I patted the bonnet and said "Inglese. Molto brilliant!" and the driver wound his window down so that I could hear the safety catches being taken off four Uzzis.
Peter, that's probably because they hadn't been issued with one of those dinky little Alfa Romeo 1900M Jeep-style vehicles...
A communist bakers' now that's exotic. Is there a Northern League butchers' shop around the corner just to balance things out?
Food snobbery: a world in a cream cone.
In Ashby-de-la-Zouch, years ago, queuing in a bakery much like Ron's but without the Che poster. Woman in front gets to counter:
'One white sliced, and a couple of cream cones m'Duck; make sure it's ordinary cream, none a'that real..... '
ps Alice, where have you gone? I miss being thought of as hot. Prompted by your craven lust I have entered into lengthy negotiations with calender producers for 'Fred: The Biker Years' available at all good bookshops, online etc etc
Maybe she's a bird of passage Fred.
Ron - it all looks very tempting. Our nearest REAL bakery is some 10 miles away and has been for sale for several years now - poor bloke can't find any body to take it on but hasn't the heart to deprive us of fresh bread, so keeps struggling out of bed at 04.00 hrs sven days a week, I believe he still takes Sunday joints in for the village residents - marvelous, delivers in a Berlingo mind !
Bread machines are the answer round here. Our real baker went about 8 years ago and is now a Subway dishing up processed pig fat (I'm a regular). I'm about to sling the ingredients into my machine (2 minutes tops). In the morning I will come down to the smell of fresh bread. I've never looked back. well, I have, but that's another story.
Sigh. Just when I thought it was safe to get out my leathers.
Had troubles with my Fanuc this week Fred. Will you be bare-chested for the calendar? (It is calendAr, not calendEr. I am scarred from my A-level teacher berating me as a stupid foreigner when I got my spelling wrong)
Alice, I'll do my best.
Post a Comment