I've read several articles lately about how the Atkins and South Beach diets have bakers scrambling to replace lost bread revenues. It's been hard in gauge the phenomena locally, in that we live on an island that does not have one proper bakery. Thus, I'm happy to report that bread is thriving in the Rustbelt.
A new Atlanta Bread Company is opening within blocks of a Montana Mills Bread Company right around the corner from where I write.
There is hope for mankind.
In Georgia, polite folk cut the crusts off of finger sandwiches before serving. In Buffalo, the crust is the best part. Fresh Italian bread is still served in most Mom and Pop restaurants with a proud, loud crust that you can hear when you bite it and a warm, yielding center to reward your crunching efforts.
Call me a crusty old broad, but the only things I can think of that are more sensual and delicious would lose my PG rating.
I grew up on a dead end street in a working class neighborhood. On a cold, winter morning there was no better breakfast in the world than a day-old discounted bakery roll warmed in the oven with butter.
These days my cousins and I have college degrees, huge mortgages, multiple vehicles per household and have travelled extensively.
Now we know with absolute certainty -- on a cold, winter morning there is no better breakfast in the world than a day-old discounted bakery roll warmed in the oven with butter.