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Pizza yes, but the cut! We remain vigilant

be a little 'time, I will be so hungry, but it was a bit' of time that I wanted spend a long thought to my trusted baker.

The early morning has clouded the windows from the hot breath of bread, croissants and pizzas. Crossing the threshold, my eyes sparkle at the sight of so many good things freshly. The sciura serving just seems out of the hairdresser, always perfect, cutting, bending, color. Always polite. Congratulations, that envy. But I am disheveled, sleepy, eyes still stuck. But open wide, before such bendiddio. The sandwiches are great, soft and tender. Saturday and Saturday only then make the bread in the country. But do not take a view, so that all the wild sheep starved to see. No. They keep him in the back (along with who knows how many other good things ..) and if you know him, have you heard, then you ask him. They bring out the trend and you have the matching images.
But if the passion is sweet, I put aside the classic croissant and I would vote, body and soul to the "hands", small hands made of croissant dough between your fingers with a lot of good apricot jam.
If it's the pizza-watering, entering on the left is the cutting. I know that at Via Saluzzo is the world's best pizza, but the baker is still hot is a dream. Simple, focaccia, pizza, focaccia stuffed focaccia with tomatoes or onions. And while I'm writing a piece not too small faithful waiting for me in the darkness of my shack. Bon appetit!

furnace Boaglio via Montegrappa 49 Pinerolo

Do Irish Have Big Noses

It 's amazing how the force of habit impels us to see what there really is not. A very short episode to explain.

Today in my office. In front of my desk there are two stools. For six months, one was red the other grenade. Recently, the red has been replaced, and now they are both grenade. Upon arrival of a customer with his new eyes and fresh look stools and says they are both equal. We here look the same stools and argue that one is red and a grenade. Although there before the reality is quite different. There, the grenade screaming from all sides.

But then why do we see through the eyes of yesterday and not today? Why the habit leads us to distort reality?

I'd miss this film and I see everything with new eyes.

Same situation when guests arrive. Until a few hours before the house is in perfect order. When guests must arrive, everything changes. Home is the same, but I look at everything with their eyes and know many things that were not there before. Newspapers in clutter, cobwebs, shoes out of place.

But why does not this look we have it every day? Not for me to come home with guilt, but see everything that way. As if it were the first.