Sunday has its own sound,
Magic, which is recognized and distinguished from the other days of the week.
On Sundays you wake up with the birds singing, with no cars passing on the road, no garbage trucks, no noisy carts that download the goods in the supermarket near my house.
There is silence. And there is no hurry.
The rhythm, for one day a week, slows down, is slow, few cars start to circulate, many go on foot or ride bicycles.
Feel the nature, the rustling of the branches, all that you can not hear during the week or in the hurry or the pollution.
You walk through the streets of the center and recognize the scent of Sunday.
On Sunday you have time for slow cooking, the long and fragrant cuisine of the past, the cuisine of moms and grandmothers who proudly wear their apron.
You walk through the houses and feel the unmistakable scent of red sauce boiling in the pot for tagliatelle or baked lasagna that swell in and become crunchy on the crust. And roast chicken with potatoes and rosemary, where oil, the good one, is abundant in the pan. Just like the wine of the house on the table, which is poured and poured, because the glass must never be empty.
It is the Sunday of traditional dishes that continue to be prepared and tasted together, because it is Sunday.
Some say that Italy still has some hope because we eat together on Sunday.
I wonder if it is true.
One thing is certain: Sunday is a special day.
I have to go, on the table is ready the Italian antipasto, and the hard boiled eggs with an anchovy that reminds me so much when I was a kid. Happy Sunday.
It can collapse the world but I do not get up from my bed. The alarm clock can ring, and I’ll turn it off and it could ring for hours!
There is only one way to pull me down the bed: feeling the scent of warmed bread in the toaster and of the coffee, or just tell me that breakfast is ready!
Then surely I will open my eyes and plunge myself into the kitchen.
Cappuccino, and something delicious.
I do not ask for the moon, I prefer homemade cakes, cakes or biscuits go well, or toast with butter and jam.
There was a time in which I was literally addicted to the croissant. Yes,like a drug. I could not do without it. It was just an addiction.
And it is not me to say that, but scientific studies prove it.
In fact, Dr. Simon Thornley, a researcher at Aukland’s regional public health service, says foods containing refined sugar and flour have the same additives qualities as tobacco: “Highly transformed carbohydrates such as cornflakes, sweets and croissants rapidly increase the amount of sugar in the blood, “he explains. “And this highincrease in sugar stimulates the same areas of the brain that are involved in nicotine addiction and other drugs.”
That’s what I always thought, because every day the addiction increased, I would gladly have eaten two or three croissants for breakfast without any (apparent!) problems.
The fault is not mine. The coffee shop just outside my house has divine croissants, gorgeous. She takes them from an oven that uses mother yeast, they are really extraordinary, crunchy and wonderful inside, very good even empty or stuffed with custard, pistachio, …
I used to go and buy a croissant several times a week, I even called the barista to ask to put aside two croissants for fear of getting there and not finding them any more ..
Then overnight I decided that I would remove croissants from my breakfast, because I’m convinced that all those vegetable oils in the dough are not so good for the body.
Do not you think maybe the croissant is made with butter, right?
One pastry chef in a million uses butter, the rest? Find out, start reading the ingredient book in bakeries and patisseries and if you do not find it, ask for it it’s your right. Do you want to know what you are eating, right?
And this is not just for croissants, but for bread and all other foods.
And is it also for any product labels, am I the only one to read them or do you also read them?