For the Love of Bread

There’s this bread they make at Thriftys, that the girlfriend’s parents bought for dinner a couple weeks ago, that was just damn fine bread. West Coast Trail bread, or some such marketing moniker they (Thriftys) gave it.


It was hearty and raisined and dense and soft, but like, not dry and rye-like. It had maybe pea- and other such nuts, which I don’t usually go for in a baked good, but it was in moderation. Bread so good you know it was made by a pro. It’s like $4 a roll, too, and you don’t blink.
So I haven’t actually repeated the exact purchase on my own, but have had a number of nearly-great breads, with more traditional monikers, from Thriftys since. I’m on a fresh and hearty bread kick. And but the girlfriend, in her generosity to keep a bbq date we arranged a few nights ago on schedule, stopped by Safeway rather than going for a Smile in the Bag and picked up a seemingly equally wonderful loaf to bring home to her boy.
She said the label had read Asiago Cheese. By which Safeway meant Many Cloves of Undercooked Garlic that hurt your mouth and Doesn’t Really Have Much Asiago. I’m still working on the loaf two days later (waste not). It’s like eating cherries: You bite gingerly, picking chunks of meat away, searching with teeth and tongue for the hard pit to expel over the railing. Except with this Safeway loaf, because the ratio of bread (which was, I guess, OK for Safeway) to giant whole clove is higher than cherry to pit, and you’re pretty assured the pit of a cherry is in the damn centre, predictable, not random and intimidating.

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