I Don’t Give a Damn about My Baguette Reputation

A couple weeks ago I took my daughter to school and after she went inside I was standing on the sidewalk chatting with a friend. Another parent, the father of my daughter’s best friend, came trotting over carrying a big plastic bag. “Here,” he said, “This is for you.” “Hey, thanks!” I said. Inside the bag were two of those perforated baking trays you’re supposed to use to make baguettes, and a big heavy rolling pin.

“My mother gave these to us,” he said. “We’re not going to use them. We think you will.”

“Okay,” I said. “I guess I can learn to make baguettes. I mean, I’ve never made baguettes, but probably mostly because I never had any of the special trays you need in order to make baguettes.”

“Problem solved,” he said.

So one of these days I’m going to look into making baguettes. In the meantime, I’m still making my usual Pullman loaves and listening to Joan Jett; and the trays have been put to work helping to corral wrapping paper in the Surprise Drawer at the end of the kitchen.


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