Not exactly a sandwich bread — the ciabattine turned out to be a little tough, would have made excellent olive oil dipping bread — I was so excited about the rosemary I could see caught in its crevices (the ciabattine) that I bought it anyway.
I keep calling the bread a “ciabattine” because I called it a mini-baguette at the bread counter at Agata & Valentina and was promptly corrected, and of course I don’t want to intentionally mislead anyone. (Unintentionally is another matter.) Of course, I came home and immediately Googled “ciabattine” in search of illumination: There are plenty of Italian references, not many in English, and one very interesting use of “ciabattine” as a Flickr tag for photos that have nothing to do with bread (as far as I can discern).
… Back on track now. The ciabattine still served its purpose as the basis for my brie, basil and strawberry sandwich, which is a trifecta I would repeat any day, although maybe next time on a softer roll.
There’s just something special about brie and strawberries — a little bit of decadence on an otherwise ordinary day. Strikes me as very Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s … while relatively simple, it gives off the air of having grandiose plans.