Bread. Alone.

When I carried a two pound loaf of Genovese style pannetone and a dozen bagels in a bag topped with a single bialy around the city, I knew I had to acknowledge how much I sincerely love bread. It might just be my favorite food group and it definitely would be my desert island wish. Truth be told, the thought of being sensitive to gluten makes me sick to my stomach. Yes, I love bread.

The best part of an early Thanksgiving is a bonus week of Christmas eating.

Let me counts the ways…

Italian holiday breads such as panettone at Christmas and pane di Pasqua at Easter. I love a bread that marks a holiday, what can I say?

Irish breads like soda bread and whole wheat brown bread lightly dusted with oats. With rough cut orange marmalade, please.

Croissants, particularly those that leave a petite souvenir of their presence in the form of scattered flaky crumbs and a glisten of butter on one’s fingertips.

Bagels and bialys, with whipped cream cheese to smear on, for the win.

Focaccia like the one you get in Genoa, tasting salty like the ocean and herbaceous from rosemary as you tear into it.

Challah, yellow with eggs and used in every single bread pudding and French toast recipe forever and ever.

Naan, stuffed with slightly bitter garlic and a tad oily.

The Placid Baker makes some damn tasty breads.

German fruit stollen, the city cousin to the more well-known, country style dark fruit bread that is the perpetual butt of jokes.

My own version of no-knead bread in which I tweak the recipe a tad by increasing both the salt and the yeast.

What’s your favorite bread? Where do you get it?

One thought on “Bread. Alone.

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