I never used to eat white bread

If I had to bet, I’d say 98% of you readers grew up eating Iron Kids bread. It was fortified with the vitamins and minerals us active kids need to get a well-balanced, nutritional meal from something as simple as a sandwich. Life was good. But then studies came out saying white bread was bad for you. CRAP! It’s been so long that I don’t really remember how it happened yet, but somewhere they came out with “White-Wheat” and then society decided that if you were old enough to start caring about what that meant, then you should shove the kids’ crap and just eat nutty, grainy, fortified-with-real-food bread.

This was not a problem for me. It introduced me to the obsession with bread I now call breakfast, lunch and dinner. From Rye to Sourdough to Asiago and Everything bread, I’ll take it plain, toasted, buttered or jammed. I’ll eat it anytime of day and more of it than anything else on the plate. Too bad that now almost all breads are bad for you, whether in a gluten-is-the0devil kind of way or just the carbs-make-you-puffy way, because I don’t think I can ever give it up.

But I will say that somewhere in that chronological development of my taste for grain, I did develop a natural avoidance for the white loaf. And you have to admit, it does look pathetic next to the overloaded with texture breads next to it in the grocery aisle. This is where we pick up with what goes on inside my married fridge.

Mike likes white bread. (Okay, the jury is still out over whether it’s because he actually likes the way it tastes, or if it’s just because you can buy loaves of white bread for .89 at Kroger). I only buy Rye, Sourdough or something else that looks fresh-out-of-a-fancier-oven delicious. But it’s no secret that there are double the slices in those cheap packs than in mine… so when I run out (because of a dedicated week of packing my own lunch) I’m forced to choose a leftover (probably rock hard by now) hamburger bun or suck it up and make something with Mike’s wannabe Iron Kids bread (seriously, the pack just says, “white bread.”). With a sigh, I chose the latter.

Well, folks, I’ve been humbled. And I can admit it because I feel the need to remind the world so that they too may rediscover their childhood tastebud joys. I had almost forgotten how soft and dreamy pure white bread can be. It literally melts in your mouth, soaks up the condiments you’ve loaded onto it and separates itself from the stuffing, so that you taste the meat, cheese and accessories like never before. No, it definitely wasn’t as filling (so now I understand why sometimes Mike makes two sandwiches) (okay and that gives me new fuel for the argument of what we’re getting for our money), and the bread doesn’t have any actual flavor, but it earned it’s second glance from me, with high marks and a consolation prize of open mindedness for future lunching. Plus, it definitely makes a better PB&J, which we might have to eat on a daily basis one day if the “good” bread gets any more expensive.