When I was refurbishing my house in Motovun, I decided not to install an oven in the kitchen. All I have for cooking is a ceramic plate with four electric burners. Sunk into the kitchen counter, it leaves plenty of space underneath for pots and pans. The reason I skipped the oven was not to save cabinet space, though. Simply put, I was a bit worried about a dream that had followed me for years—the dream of making my own bread. Bread to my liking, that is. My dream was mainly about the pervasive smell, but I knew I would gobble up all that bread, too. And I knew my belly would show it. No oven, no bread, and no bread, no belly, I reasoned. But look at me now! Practically every day I buy a whole loaf of dark, dense bread stuffed full with all kinds of toasted grains. Baked in the shape of a baguette, it abounds in hard, crunchy crust. And this is just one of so many delicious breads available in town. Had I had an oven, I would probably eat less bread, as I cannot imagine ever beating the local baker. Bread to my liking, and no mistake. As for the belly…