Breaking bread...

“Good bread is the most fundamentally satisfying of all foods; and good bread with fresh butter, the greatest of feasts.” James Beard
Right on, James. I write this while munching on sourdough toast with butter from Normandy Farms, a bakery here in Charleston with bread that rivals any other in the world. My friends all complain about their food weaknesses. Generally, these complaints revolve around chocolate or cookies or ice cream. Not me. Sweets hold no real everyday interest for me. A pint of ice cream will last me about 45 days—I eat a single spoonful about twice a week. It drives my husband nuts. I probably ate five cookies in all of last year. I’ve never even tasted most candy bars. Yes, that’s right, I’ve never had a Twix, Almond Joy, Baby Ruth, or Butterfinger…the list goes on and on and on. But, bread? I eat it every day. If I had to choose only one food to eat for the rest of my life, it would be bread. I think people who turn down the bread basket at a restaurant are nuts.
I love all kinds of homemade bread, but am not crazy about commercial breads (exception: cheap white bread for old-school grilled cheese or served straight from the plastic bag in a BBQ joint). Give me your sourdough, pumpernickel, cornbread, biscuits, bagels, roti, challah, rghifa, pain de mie, baguettes, focaccia, pita, soda bread, rye, naan, ciabatta, and tortillas…and I’m a happy woman. Spare me the add-ins, with the occasional exception of olive oil, fresh rosemary, and sea salt. I recently had “bacon bread”, which was essentially a dough with bacon sprinkled on it – it was then rolled like a cinnamon roll dough and baked. Shockingly, despite my love of bacon and bread, it was disgusting.
I crave bread. I sometimes dream about it. I search it out when I travel. The best I’ve ever had? Hard to say. Normandy Farms in my hometown of Charleston has a Panini with sea salt and rosemary that is heaven. Pizza Bianca from Sullivan Street in NYC is hard to beat. Hot butter tortillas from Central Market in Houston are divine (I bought a pack to take home, but ate them before I got on the plane). Boudin’s sourdough in San Francisco—none better. My personal all-time favorite is what got me through college—Mariakakis “greek bread” in Chapel Hill. It was basically a combo pita/pizza bread. They sold it in the shape of a huge pizza for $1.50. It was brushed with olive oil, garlic and salt. I can still taste it.
The crazies who tell me that I shouldn’t eat bread because it’s a “hazard” need to give it up. Never going to happen. I need to move to Turkey. In Turkey, throwing away bread is a sin. If it is too old to eat and not usable in some other dish, the Turks kiss the bread and touch it to their foreheads before disposing of it. I get that. See you in Istanbul.