Breakfast Bruschetta

Every food has a story. This morning I saw the bread from yesterday and wanted toast. I thought, "this isn't just any toast. This is Maorizio's rustic loaf perfect for bruschetta". I don't usually eat bruschetta for breakfast..but a flat of my good friend Michael's heirloom tomatoes were staring me in the face. They are so sweet and delicious, I thought to myself, "better than jam".

Bruschetta means 'slightly burned', the grill marks that sear the bread when toasted on an open fire. I just toasted the bread, eliminated the garlic, put butter instead, that melted quickly giving that aroma of goodness that comes together like nothing other than bread and butter. I sliced the tomatoes and put a few basil leaves on top. You might say, " why is this different from a tomato sandwich? Because it isn't.

It's breakfast bruschetta because I said so, and I am leaving for Italy in two days and if it's anything, it's mezzo mezzo. Maorizio's bread and Michael's tomatoes merit a good salute. But for the sake of invention on this fine day when I should be packing instead of posting.. it is what it is.

BREAKFAST BRUSCHETTA

A few slices of fine crusty bread
Good butter (in this case, just because I found it at Alfalfa's Market, I used Buffalo butter)
Ripe tomatoes, preferably home grown if you can find them, and have a generous friend.
Course sea salt
Fresh basil
Extra virgin olive oil
..... .  .....

Toast the bread in a toaster, or in the oven or on an open fire.
Slather with butter.
Slice tomatoes and place on the bread.
Sprinkle with coarse sea salt
Dab a few basil leaves top
Drizzle with extra virgin olive oil (just pressed from Chile~ you can find it in Alfalfa's bulk oil dept.)

Buongiorno!

Berber Bread

Up over the Haoz plain, we leave the ramparts of Marrakech headed towards the Ourika valley. We pass the kings gardens full of olive and orange trees and find ourselves driving straight towards the high Atlas mountains shining bright with snow. A welcomed sight in 85 degree weather.

We pass through the village of Tnin, to find the gates of Nectarome, my friend Jalil’s aromatherapy garden. Berber woman are busy baking bread in the traditional Tasalhit bread ovens. Stooped over, they bend from the waist and gracefully and straight legged as a yoga pose, pull bread from off the hot rocks. Corn and olive, barley with nigella seeds, wheat with fennel seeds..we eat it hot and dip it into an array of aromatic oils such as toasted argan, un-toasted argan, sesame, olive and nigella. The bread goes down easy. I know this bread will not boast or bloat, but satisfy in the most delicious way. Followed by a cup of steaming
herb tea from the garden, I feel once again at home in Morocco.