When I wasn’t looking over the past few years, bread has really changed.
It’s comfort food. It’s supposed to be….comforting. Not…confusing.
I asked my husband to pick up some bread on his way home from work last night. We don’t have bread with dinner that often (or else my muffin top would have a muffin top would have a muffin top), but I made chicken marsala (don’t be getting any ideas—it’s from the recipe on the marsala wine bottle—saute chicken and ‘shrooms, insert wine and water, presto!) I don’t need no Rachael Ray!
Anyway, he brought home a circular bread with a really busy wrapper. Seriously, there’s more writing on this wrapper than the last book I read. I needed to take out my glasses for this bad boy.
It says things like, “hand crafted” (ooh), “stone baked” (ahh), “gourmet artisan” (fancy!), and “elegant” (Sorry. I’m not buying elegant. It’s bread. Well dressed women are elegant. Jewelry is elegant. Old hotels are elegant. Bread? It’s flour and yeast. Who do you think you’re dealing with here, bread braggarts?)
It’s also “round” (In case I don’t know my shapes? But if I’m buying such fancy breads, shouldn’t I know my shapes?), and has a “mild flavor” (um, okay) and a “crackling golden crust” (I don’t hear anything?). It’s “all natural” (I know that’s good.) It has “no preservatives” (It’ll get stale by dessert. But I’m no Rachael Ray. So there wasn’t one.)
It’s “peasant” bread (That’s not fancy! I know what a peasant is. Who’re they calling a peasant? Just because I make marsala from the recipe on the bottle?)
I didn’t need to pair my bread with olive oil or butter—I needed a thesaurus to understand and appreciate what I was eating (maybe I am a peasant.) I’m not sure I know what “Neo-Tuscan” is? So much for that English degree—I’m not sure I’m qualified to comprehend a bread bag!
There are even recipe suggestions on the bread bag. I don’t want a bread to stuff with spinach dip on a weeknight!
OMG, I just wanted a piece of bread with my dinner! And now I’m getting a headache!
Really, I’m not sure I deserve a “hand scored bread” that was baked on a “volcanic stone” (That sounds dangerous! I hope those gourmet artisans at the bread company have good workers comp!)
I’m ashamed now I paired such gourmet greatness with twist off wine and marsala bottle chicken. On a Tuesday night! During a recession! Who do I think I am???
That it’s trans fat and cholesterol free is certainly a plus, but the overall vibe of the bread is making me feel guilty! Why should little old me get to eat bread that makes more claims than a guy on an infomercial? Sham-WOW!? I bet it has nothin’ on this here bread! I bet it can sop up spills too! (But can it slice and dice? Maybe on day two since it has no preservatives! Maybe that golden crust will sharpen right up. I’ll get back to you….)
The bread bag is a contradiction. It’s elegant, but it’s for peasants. It’s a vehicle for dips, but it’s also for a lunch sandwich. Or for breakfast with butter and jelly. Or for pasta, stew or salad. It can “enhance any meal.” Next time I’ll pair it with my kids Spaghettios and see what they think! Will my kids ever appreciate living the high life as they enjoy crusts that “burst to reveal the mouth watering goodness inside”? Surely their sophisticated palettes must value the hand scoring? I’m not sure they’ll be satisfied to dine at the Golden Arches ever again after their brush with boule magnificence!
When I was growing up when we wanted bread with dinner my mom came home with a white paper bag that said, “Italian bread” or “French bread”. It might have had an Italian or French flag on it—that was about as fancy as it got. I remember being excited when the white bag would make an appearance. Most nights I remember having bread with dinner, but it was the same type of sliced wheat bread that held my sandwich together at lunch. (But not white sandwich bread, because white bread was “devoid of nutrition”—unless, apparently, it had a French or Italian flag and came in a white paper bag!)
This whole bread thing is making my head hurt. I have the spins thinking about all the possibilities that exist for this golden circle shaped bread. I think it has an identity crisis. This bread is trying to be all things to all people—I can read between the lines!
I think I’ll be kicking it old school from now on with the family dinner bread. My husband better come home next time with something that says “French” or “Italian”, or he can just leave that ungodly wrapper at the door!