"I'm hungry," I complained, as I usually do after consuming a sizable amount of alcohol.
"Don't worry," he told me, "I'll take care of it." He returned a short while later with a plate of toasted bread slathered in butter and honey.
"I made this," he said.
"You're proud that you made a piece of toast," I snorted.
"No," he said, "Like I made the bread. You know, from scratch."
Now that, that was impressive (and quite possibly one of the reasons I continued to date him.) I cook everything from scratch and even I don't make my own bread.
Since then, he's made me countless loaves of bread. Grainy breads, sweet breads, seeded breads, buns, rolls and all other manner of baked and starchy things. The way it goes in our house is that I cook and my boyfriend bakes. Being that this a habit I benefit greatly from, I've tried to encourage it as much as possible. So, for his birthday this year, I bought him a copy of Tartine Bread (we love Tartine) and almost every week since he's produced two perfect, gorgeous, round breads using Chad Robertson's complex and exacting, but totally flawless recipe.
Gorgeous, simple and so, so delicious.