My Barrista and Bagel Maker

"How do you like your toast?  Brown or black?  Just scrape to desired doneness."  

You would hear those words come out of my mouth if ever I were to make you breakfast.  Say a prayer that situation never happens.  Or excuse yourself quickly and head for the hills.  

I am descended from a long line of fabulous cooks, but sadly I cannot count myself among their ranks.  

I suck at cooking.  Badly.

But how lucky for me, my husband is a fantastic cook!  Not only can he cook and bake, but he is a marvel at many culinary endeavours.

He imports and roasts his own coffee beans.  (Mind you, he nearly burned our house down last year when he left the roaster unattended for a long time in our garage.  But that's another story for another post.)  I think he makes the best damn cup of coffee this side of the Atlantic Ocean.  I never want to go out for a coffee now, because they all pale in comparison to a cup of Joe's java. 

One of Joe's lattes (with a foam heart) in my beloved cafe au lait bowl.

The newest addition to his repertoire is that of bagel maker.  We can't get a decent bagel here in Squamish.  Not for love nor money.  So he went to the internet to research a recipe this weekend and voila!  We had bagels sitting on our countertop a few hours later.

Joe's first batch of bagels.

As soon as the bagels were cool enough to eat, we slathered them with cream cheese and topped them with smoked salmon, onions and capers.

A classic.

Have I mentioned how much I love a man who cooks?