Last night, Namine and I made beer bread and chocolate cake. The bread was just part of dinner, and the cake was in celebration of Jessica’s birthday. (She is celebrating another anniversary of her 21st birthday, in case you were wondering.) While we were eating dinner, I noticed Namine doing something… familiar.
When I was a child, I liked to roll my bread into a ball. Buttered or not, there was just something about balled-up bread that made it so much better. As I was sitting with my family eating dinner last night, Namine started tearing out the soft middle of her slice of beer bread. She rolled it up into a compact little ball. She looked at it, smiled at her handiwork, and popped it into her mouth, humming as she does when her food is especially delicious. (My ever musical little love.)
I guess the bread ball doesn’t fall far from the tree.