Ever since his visit to Bouchon Bakery, Fosco has been obsessed with brioche. Rich, slightly sweet, with a whiff of lemony goodness... Ah, brioche! What you are looking at below is the loaf of brioche that Fosco baked himself(!) on Friday:
This morning, Fosco and Oz had brioche French toast. And all Fosco can say is... "Good. God." How did I live this long without learning to make brioche French toast? And how much longer could I possibly live if I were to make it every morning from now on? (The answer to the second question is probably somewhere around 5-8 years. Tops.).
You know what else is special about today? It's the Super Bowl (Go Roughriders!) We'll be watching the game, of course, but Fosco recognizes that not all Fosco Lives! readers will be doing so as well. And so, to help you kill some time while the rest of America is ogling Brenda Warner, here are some suggestions:
- Have you considered learning a sport that is nearly impossible to play in your local climate? So has this Brazilian curling team, profiled in the Times. (Actually, Fosco loves curling. More on that some other time.)
- Make a list of all the places in Mexico that you can no longer visit because of the escalating drug war. Hint: don't forget Tijuana (N.B., it remains the happiest place on earth).
- Feeling sleuthy? Maybe you can help locate one of the "lost tribes of lesbians" mentioned in the synopsis from the NYT online front page below:
Hint: check Mount Holyoke. - Or, if you're looking for some strenuous exercise, you should proceed with caution to Austin, Texas (home of composer John Mackey), where this sign was reportedly spotted recently:
Don't forget your shotgun. And remember: aim for the head.
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1 comment:
I read that yesterday about the "lost tribes". I don't understand being so militantly anti-male.
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