No, I did not make this bread. Believe me--if I had, I'd be screen-printing t-shirts right now that said so. I bought this sour cherry lemon loaf at the Breadfarm in Bow, Washington. And then the light feel so perfectly on this log in my mother-in-law's yard that I ran to get the blessed loaf. Look at those floury crags, those cherries studding the curves. A big fat slice, toasted with butter, was more ambrosial than any photo could convey.
Standing at Breadfarm's counter, I was overwhelmed with the bounty. Pumpkin harvest loaves, baguettes crammed with oodles of Kalamata olives, little chocolate mint sandwich cookies, fig and anise panino rolls. On a little bend in this Skagit Valley road, these folks know what they're doing. How wonderful, that all of us end up digging into such varied vocations. The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker.
Loretta, my Mom, and I had a little date yesterday morning in Bow--coffee, a "card game" with Loretta, and bags full of bread. Three generations of food-lovers, one camera, and lots of thanksgiving. I hope you are heading into your week with peace and good toast.