If you know us at all, you know that the Little Man is fascinated by mixers. We have spent many mornings hanging at the edge of the mixing bowl in our local bakery. Chiang Mai, happily, has a reasonable substitute, and last Sunday we confused this dear Thai baker by staring into his big mixer.
Chiang Mai's U.N. Irish Pub bakes the best bread in the city. Full stop. And that means that the spirits of the shop (and, as you know, all places have their resident spirits) get daily offerings of freshly baked bread. Most Thai spirits must satisfy themselves with rice, whiskey, and cigarettes. I'm thinking that the spirits of the Irish Pub may be a little thick around the middle, if you know what I mean.
What's missing, of course, is the real reason we bundle up in coats, hats, and mittens to get to our local bakery every morning. It's who we find when we get there. Oh, the feeling of walking in and seeing someone (actually quite a few someones) genuinely glad you came in out of the cold.
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