The world's gone crackers

We woke up to the worst possible news this morning and sat numbly for awhile with our coffee cups getting cold in our hands. Not sure how or what to do or think next, I finally said I'm not going to let HIM ruin our vacation and so we got dressed.

After a day in Saint Emilion, one of the most beautiful wine towns in the world, Carolyn and I decided to stop at the Leclerc supermarket on the way home to buy some ingredients. Last night, quite randomly, she asked if I'd ever made my own crackers. No, but it was on my list of things I'd like to learn, I told her.

So at the market, we searched for "farine" and some herbes de Provence for flavor, then, because I have never baked at the cottage, we bought a measuring cup. 

The recipe was simple: flour, salt, sugar, oil, water, but because the quantities were in American measurements and the new chemistry-beaker like measuring cup was in metric, we had to convert everything. "Pas probleme," as the French like to say and we muddled through cups to grams and cups to mililiters and figured it all out. 

As a team we added and mixed and adjusted the quantities to get a dough that could be rolled out. I don't have a rolling pin at the cottage, but a bottle of chilly rosé did the job and was a nice treat to open later after the glutinous mess was washed off.

We cut the crackers into rough rectangles and struggled to scrape them off the countertop and onto the baking sheet. Carolyn topped each with a sprinkle of herbes de Provence and some crunchy sea salt and they were set in the 450 degree, I mean 232.2 C degree oven for about 12 minutes.

We ate our creations with rabbit pate, a duck and figue pate, some Emmental and fresh goat cheese. While the world was going crackers with the news of the new leader of the free world, we were dealing with it by being resourceful, working as a team, trying something new, embracing the very simple pleasure of homemade crackers.