Dear Bread,
How have you been? I’m hoping you are well. I know I’ve been distant lately, and after reading this letter, I hope you understand why. I hope it won’t upset you, I’ve realized over our break these past two week s that I can no longer see you.
Our relationship over the 15 months or so have frankly been rough for me; you were there, so you already know what I’m talking about. I’ve tried you whole-grain and no-grain, french and Italian-style, tandoori and tortilla, and even pitas and it’s all come down to the same sad conclusion: I cannot digest you, and you know it.
Is this some post-Atkins craze excuse? No, and you know this. You know I defended you against all these low-carb freaks that insisted I use lettuce instead of you to make wraps, while all the while those fake protests against eating french fries dissipated into the ether as plate after Atkins-friendly plate came back void of all french fries I placed next to those sandwiches. I just smirked to myself and knew that like all diet crazes, that this too shall pass.
Had I known that my enjoyment of you would turn into a Faustian nightmare, I would’ve made the transition earlier.
Am I allergic to gluten? No, I don’t have Celiac disease. What is or has happened to us is simple. I eat too much of you; and, let’s just say I , oh fuck it: Bread, I can’t poop after eating you!
There, I’ve said it.
I just can’t go to the bathroom after eating you in any form. And frankly, I’d rather poop than have a sandwich. I just want to know if we can still be friends. Well, can we?
I want to know if I can still touch you ( through the plastic wrapper, of course). Do I have permission smell the heady aroma of a properly baked loaf of rye as it comes out the oven. Can I vicariously enjoy the sweet, earthy scent of cinnamon when you appear as raisin bread. Or, when you show up as one of those artisinal types, can I still marvel at the visual richness of your crumb or smile when I see you as a chewy, crater filled ciabatta?
Will you let me love you from afar? I hope so, because this is the only way we can continue. I hope you understand. Can we still be friends? Let me know.
xxoo,
Culinary Chick
2 Comments
June 9, 2009 at 11:15 pm
Brilliant!
June 11, 2009 at 3:06 am
Thanks Mama! I’m glad you liked it.
I had to do it; eating bread was WRECKING me.