Our Daily Bread!

The most pressing question every morning in our corner of The Auvergne is: how much bread to buy and which kind. I wake up with a start each day, afraid that we are too late and that the baker has sold out. Yes, bread is that important here. And if you could taste it and the cheese which accompanies every meal, you would understand.
For decades, Condat, had no bakery. One had to drive for miles to get bread. So the mayor of Condat and the community, decided to buy a house, install a baker's oven and advertise for a baker. The first two bakers who applied and took on the job left after only a few years. The isolation in this small community was too much. Since two years now however, a young couple has occupied the place and the bread that they bake will make you think you have died and gone to heaven. I know I fantasize about it when I am back in Brooklyn.
During our first few days here, my husband drove down the hill or Moody Teen son took his Moped down to get "le pain." In answer to my question if the baker's wife had recognized them from last year, they informed me that she did not really show signs of recognition and that they could not tell me if she knew who they were. I was surprised because last year we had so many guests stay with us that Husband was constantly running down to get more. I could not understand that she would not remember them. Since their french is very rudimentary and a longer conversation with the villagers is impossible, I went down myself and chit-chatted a bit with the baker's wife. I announced to her that we had returned to our beloved hill. She replied: "Yes, I know. I have already seen your husband and your son." and after a few seconds she added" And I have noticed that you do not have guests this year."
Ah, yes. Bread is this that important. Here in our little corner of France, the baker knows your business by how much bread you buy. Last week, we only needed enough bread for three people. Since Friday, we have four guests, so Husband just went down to get a few loaves. That should make the baker and his wife happy.
( I asked the baker if I could take a picture of his bread. So here it is. Fresh and crusty and to die for)