I chuckled at the venom in his voice. “Sandwich first.”
Standing up, I reached out to him and helped pull him up. I used a little too much force and he wasn’t quite ready. He nearly fell forward and caught himself on the counter.
“Jesus. How much strength do you have?”
“I deal with a lot of bags of flour on a daily basis.”
I pulled a stool out of the closet and set it up for him. Putting the sandwich on a plate, I cut it in half and slid it over. He smiled and took a half. Watching him take the first bite, he looked slightly surprised. Another bite and he narrowed his eyes.
“This bread…”
Chuckling, I leaned against the sink. “Took me two years to get the ratios right. Three different types of flours. Tried different butters, different techniques for kneading, baking, and even resti
