No More Bread

After stuffing my face with buttery crossaints and pain au chocolat for two months, I'm bidding adieu to bread (I doubt the French have heard of dear old Atkins). Though I did steal a bite of a warm baguette at dinner. The French staple is as ubiquitious as the advertisements for cellulite removal in pharmacies across France (scandalous window sized posters of bum and skinny thighs sans cellulite.) Boulangeries may be everywhere, but I'm hard-pressed finding normal staples, like chicken stock, regular cuts of meat (pork tenderloin, anyone?), or even skim (!) milk. I am not about to eat my muesli saturated with thick cream in the morning, so get this-- I've started cutting it with water. Pierre gags, but it works like a charm.

PS Just kidding. I didn't last a day here in the land of bread. Consumed crossaints aplenty this weekend.