...in Brittany. With a little rain. Tom is sleeping, trying to shake a cold before we head north to Roscoff to gather up friend pat who is making the trip from Cornwall for the weekend. I had a quiet cup of tea and a piece of kouign (pronounced "queen") amann cake for breakfast -- decadent in the extreme. Recipes call for a dough of flour and butter rolled out, slathered with butter and sprinkled with sugar, folded, then rolled out, slathered and sprinkled again a few times, then baked. It tastes like one of those cinnamon breakfast rolls with so much butter you could squeeze some out, but without the cinnamon; just butter and sugar. It is served warm, so when it is placed in the microwave for even a few moments, some of the butter melts out and forms a puddle on the plate. It doesn't photograph well, but the taste more than makes up for it.
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