Monday, November 28, 2011

Broken Bread

I adore good bread.  Yesterday someone lovingly presented me with a bag full of a variety of colorful delicious-looking breads.  My eyes widened at the mere sight.  Since I hadn't yet eaten lunch, I gratefully accepted the bag... more like snatched it out of the giver's hand.... and skipped into the kitchen to survey the booty. 


I couldn't decide which one to sample first... the mini loaf covered in cheese and jalapenos? I love cheese... not so much the jalapenos....should I simply pick them out?  What about this trustworthy looking poppy seed covered kaiser style loaf... hmmmmm decisions decisions.  My drooling mouth bade me knock it off and make a choice already... So I did... and picked a beauty of a loaf, golden brown, appearing to have been made with love and attention by trained hands and a wise and creative mind.


When I picked up the loaf to break it in half, something jarred me from my momentary euphoria. The bread did not seem to have any substance. It felt light... but not in a good way.  I then sniffed it, hoping for reassurance of the loaf's promise to be all that bread could be... because there is such deep, fundamental comfort to be found in bread....  blog post topic in and of itself.  Upon breathing in the aroma of the bread I determined that my smeller must be off... cuz frankly I couldn't smell a thing.  Fortunately I had just been gifted with a lovely bottle of serious olive oil, and I just knew that when applied to the bread, I would be in for a revelatory experience.


Nope.


The bread was just plain bland -- no two ways about it.  Devoid of any quality you may associate with bread.  Nothing I tried improved the experience.  Not only was I a little disappointed to have missed out on perceived gustatory bliss, but I realized I had been duped.  I expected one thing.... one glorious thing... but I felt I had been duped in sort of a bait and switch way.


I decided to take this little lesson with me into this next week, to keep my eyes open for things, experiences, and even people, that may not be what they seem. And to accept them on their own merits.  Not every loaf has to be a hearth-style artisan loaf, but I do need to be a better judge of what I am biting into. 


What sorts of life-sustaining basics have you misread, or misperceived? How can you better identify what you are being offered?


Wishing you a rosemary parmesan focaccia day.


joyfully yours...