I live in the burbs - nothing much rustic 'round here, unless you count the rusting out Ford Bronco project B has going in the driveway. Yes, just doing our part to bring down the neighborhood property values.
When I think rustic, I think old barns, quaint little log cabins in the woods, cooking on a wood stove...
So this week was tough. What is rustic? And for some reason the word 'bread' came to mind. Maybe it's because I'm dieting. But I decided to bake bread. For two reasons - photos and also to give to one of my dear friends who had a baby on Easter.
Kneading the bread. It became even more rustic because I couldn't find my *#&#* breadhook and had to knead by hand.
In the oven. Smells SO good.
Oh yes, I also made pea soup.
Here is my very rustically chopped mirepoix. Yes, I said MIREPOIX. Look at me all French and stuff!
Said mirepoix in my very loved dutch oven.
And the finished product.
Very rustic looking and delicious tasting soup and bread. Oh yes, and wine. I needed a drink after all that domesticity!
For more rustic, visit I Should Be Folding Laundry.