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A native Californian still dealing with the culture shock of having lived in Louisiana. I happily escaped to North Carolina. Wife, mother, and corporate world worker bee who is convinced all three of these have lead to my premature gray hair. The only thing I write professionally are honey-do lists.
contributor
member since 9.4.01
raleigh, nc usa
dob:
9.15.63
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SLOAN'S LATEST COLUMN | |
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and i don't mean wonder
11.6.12
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I love bread. There, I said it. No, I'm not referring to greenbacks, the Benjamins, et al (although I'm not adverse to that bread either). I'm talking the toast, sandwich, just tear a chunk off the end and nom kind. I love everything about bread. The smell, the texture, the taste...ahh, the taste. Sigh... Sorry, I was having a moment. The aroma that hits you walking in to a bakery when those lovely loaves of goodness are just coming out of the oven is heaven. It reminds me of my grandmothers kitchen, and thinking of my grandmother just gives me warm fuzzies all over. It smells like...comfort. Contentedness. Childhood.
The moment my lips touch the crust of it my mouth is watering in anticipation. Whether it's a loud, crunchy bite of warm toast with butter, or jam, aw hell, how about butter and jam or the soft texture of what helps make the perfect sandwich.
Growing up in San Francisco some of my favorite memories are of walking dow...
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