The other night when I was having dinner with my dad, he torn into what he thought was a "french baguette." That is what the generic plastic bag it came in said it was. But what it was was TERRIBLE. The crust was chewy-looking and when he tried spreading some Nutella on it, the whole thing crumbled into a sad mess. He looked up at me and said, "Good bread is important to me. Crusty on the outside and chewy on the inside. I can eat anything but I like a good bread. What is this? This isn't french bread, is it?" Awwwww. Poignant, Dad. Well said. With that- I MAKE MY OWN FRENCH BREAD. From scratch. What, I know. JEALOUS. It's easy, fun, a bit time consuming, but very cathartic. Plus, there is nothing better than the smell of fresh bread wafting through the house. I'm slowing doing things from my list. Mmmmmm, delicious.