I have a little issue with bread.
I like bread.
So does my offspring.
Blog-Stedman is more of a meat and potatoes (minus the potatoes) kinda guy, but he is a bread snob. For instance, he requires the proper type of bread for each situation.
Don’t even think about putting a hot dog into a modified hamburger bun…that won’t fly.
This has resulted in a very large bread basket on my kitchen counter.
Each trip to the grocery store includes several loaves of bread. If I make it to the bread store, I pretty much buy one of everything from that day’s baking.
I believe in carbo loading.
When I host parties, I usually hide the embarrassingly large bread basket in the pantry along with the embarrassingly large chip bucket. These obsessions come in pairs.
Last party, I forgot.
Later in the evening two people came up to me and said, “What is the story on all the bread? Do you have ducks?”
I mumbled something about three growing boys while gazing over at the basket overflowing with wheat-y goodness. I started to do some verbal math, but it all seemed like a flimsy excuse for our little bread habit so I trailed off and diverted the conversation…
Look, something shiny!
At breakfast this morning I was again gazing at the basket wondering if it was excessive. I rarely throw out moldy bread.
We seem to always be in need of bread.
How do others get by with less?
About that same time, Reid(7) called out, “Hey mom, look at my strawberry jam sandwich!”
That might be E.B.J – Excessive Bread Justification.