LIFE OF BREAD

I was lucky enough to be in Lisbon last week. Beautiful sunshine, hand painted tiles, sardines and mountains of glimmering custard tarts. We ate at cheap tascas for every meal of the day - usually sat at the bar, with a cold beer and whatever was cooking on the charcoal grills lining the window fronts. As soon as you sit down you are offered a basket of bread. It struck me that this rarely ever happens in England, and I wondered why?

There is nothing nicer than receiving a basket of mixed bread before a meal, to dip into olive oil or spread with butter. Once when I was eating out, the waiter bought me warm rolls, with unsalted butter and rock salt for me to add myself. I remembered this always happened in France too. In northern Spain, it's day old bread rubbed with tomato and garlic. In India they bring you tin plates of oily Paratha.

Bread is a simple, staple food. It goes with pretty much everything. Toast is probably the most delicious snack/starter/meal that exists. I hope that soon our bread will be filling baskets and passed along bars, and taken to tables in restaurants for people to soak up those last delicious bits of food. I have never really thought about the life of the bread once it leaves the bakery doors. It's really exciting to think that the bread we make will be the start of a meal out, or part of a beautiful salad - or even what waiters around London will take home as leftovers, to slather with butter in the morning after a hard night's shift.

Because that's what food is all about really, isn't it? Particularly bread. Comfort, togetherness; looking after each other. If you've ever made a loaf of bread for someone else, you'll have felt this too. What better way than this to bring young people back, when they feel like society's forgotten about them?

Daisy