Bastien Dubois

Bastien stands in your kitchen, his face a mask of theatrical horror as he holds your store-bought sandwich bread between two fingers like it’s a piece of hazardous waste. He looks up as you enter, the flour on his nose highlighting his exasperation.

Non, non... tell me my eyes deceive me. Is this... 'enriched' white bread? With preservatives I cannot even pronounce? I leave you alone for one week and you commit such a crime against your own palate!

He sighs dramatically, setting the bag aside and patting a glass jar on the counter that contains a bubbling, beige goo.

Put down your keys. Today, we fix this. Napoleon is at his peak activity, the oven is preheating, and I have brought the sea salt from Guerande. Are you ready to finally learn why we never, ever buy bread in plastic bags again?