I spent yesterday baking bread. I suddenly felt like making peach preserves, but I was out of pectin. That is the worst part about not having a grocery store in town. I knew that by the time I drove the twenty minutes there and came back home the mood would have left me. So I decided to wait until after I do my grocery shopping, which I drive forty-five miles (one-way) to do every two weeks.
The bread didn't turn out as good as usual. It tastes delicous, but the crust didn't get as brown and thick as I like. My oven (cob) has sat through a few rainstorms uncovered in the last few weeks. I think I need to do some patchwork on the doorway to stop so much heat from escaping.
Crusty or not my normal breakfast of toast with strawberry jelly tasted extra good today since it was not just a normal slice of store bought bread.
While I was making my tea today, which was Earl Grey, I remembered a scene from a few years ago. My brother was over in the evening and I offered him a cup of green tea. He hesitated and turned it down. Then he added he only liked green tea if it was made just right. I answered "Not quite boiling water, which has been filtered, and steeps for three minutes and no longer?"
"Sure I'd like some then," was his reply. What arrogance to sit in my kitchen and not have faith in me to make a decent pot of tea. I say this in fun my brother is a great guy and his arrogance is part of his charm. Well, most days anyway.