Just bread

 Because I can make regrettable decisions sometimes, I let the opportunity to taste these breads pass by me. I still painfully regret it when I see these photos. We did not think that the bakery would be closed on Monday, so, because we were less than hungry at that moment we decided to return the next day. To my dismay, when re returned the bakery was not only closed but desolately empty. No crusty golden confections of flour and water and yeast anywhere to be seen. Bread. I would be half myself without it. I love rice as well, but these days I find myself eating less rice than bread, which I find to be more accessible. At the same time, it is not easy to find superb bread even in NYC, especially around this area of the East Village. Certainly there is hardly anything that looks like the bread in the photos. They look like pained trunks of trees. When you encounter fine bread and rice, you are suddenly consumed with the irrational sensation that even the most regrettable of situations cannot get at you. Bread. More than just comestible. (Hudson Valley iii)