Banging on about Doris

You know, it is one of the mysteries of life, that you get older you sound remarkedly like your mother, you sound like her, your body starts (ugh) resembling hers - I mean of course, you realise your never going to be 5"10 (I have no idea what that is in the new language but I have always wanted to be that tall), that you are impossibly now set in your ways and, AND, you can't let something go, case in point is Doris Grant. 
I am unashamedly a convert to her bread and her thinking.  But before you think "oh god, not one of those" I confess to an addiction to dark chocolate kitkats, maltesers and quiver at the knees when confronted with feta and toasted Pane di Genzano toasted with olive oil and sundried tomatoes and can be prone to fish and chips when after a long day at work don't feel like cooking.  But a 'Dorisism' caught my attention as I continued to peruse her book Dear Housewives:

The late Sir Drummond, who was adviser to the Ministry of Food during the war ( for those who may read this and born after 1960, it means WWII), maintained that if the people in this country[England] could live on fresh home grown foodstuffs, the hospitals, in twenty years, would be nearly empty.  White flour, therefore, to crown its other sins,  is not longer a fresh food - it is merely a 'filler' food, and worthless as a source of health, and of life.

I love Doris more and more - she is a woman of common sense and a wonderful turn of phrase.  I have to confess to buying wholemeal/grain bread bought and wrapped in plastic this week - I simply ran out of time to make more bread.  But I did find that the loaf of bread I made stayed fresher longer (we finished the 2nd loaf on Wednesday), it didn't toast all that well and that she was right about eating food that you know where it comes from, how it was grown and what it contains.  I also learned that I can make my friends son a sandwich (he has loads of allergies) and I know exactly what it contains without studiously reading the label (with my glasses on, 'cause god forbid that writing is small of the ingredients list).

Memo to brain though - I have to remember to grease the bread tin otherwise the bread sticks to it HARD - frustration abounds.  Bon apatito.