I’m all for culinary adventures – on a semi-regular basis. But I’ve realized over time that I enjoy simple things more vigorously than the overly-complex. I take great joy in making a bread at home. One can shop the best boulangeries in the Paris, and be hard pressed to match or defeat a simple loaf of bread baked at home. [To avoid a debate, let’s just say that I’ve hit many reputed establishments there, and that, as a rule, bread at home is just as good, if not better, than any I’ve had in France. And what’s with some shops not allowing you to take pictures?!?! WTF?] What they do have down that I do not, are really cool shapes.
You don’t hear the loaf in Paris crackle shortly after leaving the oven. You’re not charged with its care, and don’t benefit from the resulting pride of having made it with your own hands. You don’t get to enjoy it just a bit too hot from the oven, with butter and jam. You are dependent on someone else to make something that provides you with pleasure and nourishment, as opposed to enjoying the independence. And if you value freshness of product, then you can’t beat what you make at home – if made properly, I suppose.
Lots of this could be said about gardening, foraging, hunting, etc. But today, it’s bread.