Sometimes you stop to eat Brunin. All of us together. Caramel also missed the Moroccan. Caramel has an absolute respect for food. Almost a faith, a devotion. He loves bread Brunin, fragrant and aromatic. My landlord is an artist of bread. And the cake: the low, greasy surface as the base. Crispy but not dry, well-oiled but not greasy, soft but not mushy, salted to perfection. Brunin the sprinkles of oil is not just out of the oven so as to absorb the oil only in the crust. Not let her into the middle. Only he does. When you chew, the oil you round the palate. Delicious. At the end of the meal, it happens that a few pieces of bread ends in the pile for the garbage (the cake, invariably ends in a remarkably short time). Caramel not tolerate it. They, for bread, are waging war ...
"It is a silent tsunami," said Josette Sheeran, World Food Programme (WFP) the United Nations. He said in 2008: almost a prophecy.
wave of increases in food prices is going through around the world. For the first time in thirty years are breaking out simultaneously in many countries protests for food. For the bread. For mere survival. For the basic need of human beings: to eat.
Famine means mass starvation. The crisis today is made of poverty and malnutrition. The middle classes in poor countries and give up health care to the flesh, to be able to eat three times a day. But those who have a dollar a day to give up everything for a bowl of rice. The desperate - those that do not exceed half a dollar a day - have in front of him to ruin. Disaster. Well, one billion people live on one dollar a day. With estimates prudent if the cost of food ascended by 20 percent, a hundred million people could be reduced to absolute poverty. In some countries this erase the progress made over the past decade in reducing poverty. The food crisis of this period could force you to challenge the globalization.
Caramel picks up the piece of bread and puts it in the bag. He says that would be an insult to his country. If you must do one thing to think about Morocco, his country, crumb of the universe, fierce sun and dust. He thanked everyone with his angular face that seems shaped by a sculptor drunk. Then open the door and leaves. Silently. The real poor do not make noise ...
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