Bread/No Bread?

[southernlady]

Ummm.. no lox , tomato, or onion?

You won’t catch me eating a bagel. I prefer an English Muffin.

 

[k9ophile]

Growing up, we had bread and butter on the table for dinner. I usually ate at least one slice. We would put a good amount of butter on the bread. rub the bread on an of sweet of corn, and then eat the bread. Family gardens always had tomatoes and sweet corn and other veggies.

 

[Spiky Bugger]

If I could I would live on bread. I love biscuits, bagels, rye toast, Belgian waffles, cornbread, sourdough bread, pancakes, garlic bread, yeast rolls, French bread with copious amounts of butter. Omg I could go on and on.

I have severely limited bread in my diet for two main reasons after the DS bread fills me up and I cannot meet my protein needs, secondly because the more bread I eat the more bread I crave. I limit bread to no more than 2 servings a day maximum. I generally have one serving.

When I gave up bread totally in the past I was able to maintain a weight roughly 8 lbs lighter than my norm. Unfortunately, I was miserable and had great difficulty remaining bread free. I force myself to eat my protein first green vegetable next and if there is room my one serving of bread. Restricting bread has made me a bread snob. I don’t want to waste my one serving on bad bread. I would choose bread over any dessert. I guess my secret is out I am a bread addict.

Did I already tell this story? (Per MiniSue, I consistently repeat myself. She may be exaggerating.)

So, did I already …uh… never mind.

Anyway, a few days after I was born, my bread addict mother and I went home. Motherhood was apparently stressful for Mom. She would have LOVED some bread. So she called my father at work and explained her need. He was cooperative, but still had a couple of hours left in his work day.

Next, she called her dad, who lived only a couple of miles away, but he wasn’t home, only one car in the family and stepmother didn’t know how to drive anyway. Mom, of course, told her stepmother about the bread problem.

Well then, she called her mother, who lived about ten miles away and explained the bread shortage problem. FINALLY, someone who could help!

My father stopped for a loaf of bread. When he and his loaf of bread arrived home, he found his divorced-from-each-other-15years-earlier in-laws…each holding a loaf of bread…yelling at each other, attempting to achieve predominance on somewhat narrow steps, shoving a little, and trying to be first at the door.

BTW, it was 75 years ago and not in this condition nor painted this color. It WAS a decent neighborhood and it’s now starting to get re-gentrified. The photo is from 2011.

I was raised by a bread addict, but still wonder if it’s “nature or nurture” thing.

 

[Munchkin]

Did I already tell this story? (Per MiniSue, I consistently repeat myself. She may be exaggerating.)

So, did I already …uh… never mind.

Anyway, a few days after I was born, my bread addict mother and I went home. Motherhood was apparently stressful for Mom. She would have LOVED some bread. So she called my father at work and explained her need. He was cooperative, but still had a couple of hours left in his work day.

Next, she called her dad, who lived only a couple of miles away, but he wasn’t home, only one car in the family and stepmother didn’t know how to drive anyway. Mom, of course, told her stepmother about the bread problem.

Well then, she called her mother, who lived about ten miles away and explained the bread shortage problem. FINALLY, someone who could help!

My father stopped for a loaf of bread. When he and his loaf of bread arrived home, he found his divorced-from-each-other-15years-earlier in-laws…each holding a loaf of bread…yelling at each other, attempting to axchieve predominance on somewhat narrow steps, shoving a little, and trying to be first at the door.

BTW, it was 75 years ago and not in this condition nor painted this color. It WAS a decent neighborhood and it’s now starting to get re-gentrified. The photo is from 2011.

I was raised by a bread addict, but still wonder if it’s “nature or nurture” thing.

View attachment 2592View attachment 2592

What a cool house!

 

[Spiky Bugger]

What a cool house!

There were two houses on one large lot. They will soon be gone. Great views from high on a hill. We occupied the rear house. An elderly brother and sister…Mr. Peters and Miss Peters…he was a widower, she was what was then called a “spinster,” were our landlords. There are a couple of photos, brand new me and an almost two year old me, at the location.

My VERY EARLIEST memory is, I think, moving day…when we moved to our own home. I have a visual memory of all the men in the family being very busy and the wind gently blowing the sheer curtains on our windows Into the room. My sister was in a crib and I think I was standing up in my crib, supervising everything, along the wall opposite the windows. I would have been a bit over two and a half, not quite three. My sister was 19 months younger. My father’s vasectomy was about 24 months old at the time! LOL, Mom was done and probably feared a bread shortage.

 

[DianaCox]

I also have my first memories from being just short of three:

1) A “camping” trip by car to Canada, staying in a rustic cabin; the bathrooms were in a separate building. I had a potty chair in the cabin, but I had to take the bowl to the bathroom to dump it. I was walking to the bathroom in my favorite bathrobe, white with navy blue giraffes and blue piping, and I saw a chipmunk.

2) That same summer, my mother’s parents escaped the NYC heat (no A/C) by going to the Catskills, and my parents brought me to them for a week or so. I remember there was a midday summer thunderstorm, and afterwards I went outside with my grandpa to the slide in the playground. I climbed the steps, but the slide was wet and I didn’t want to sit down on it, but Grandpa pointed out the rainbow, and I thought since I was up at the top of the slide, I might be able to touch it.

Mundane images seared in my brain as if they happened just a while ago.

 

[MsVee]

I love it. Home delivered bread before Uber, Peapod and DoorDash.

 

[Spiky Bugger]

I also have my first memories from being just short of three:

1) A “camping” trip by car to Canada, staying in a rustic cabin; the bathrooms were in a separate building. I had a potty chair in the cabin, but I had to take the bowl to the bathroom to dump it. I was walking to the bathroom in my favorite bathrobe, white with navy blue giraffes and blue piping, and I saw a chipmunk.

2) That same summer, my mother’s parents escaped the NYC heat (no A/C) by going to the Catskills, and my parents brought me to them for a week or so. I remember there was a midday summer thunderstorm, and afterwards I went outside with my grandpa to the slide in the playground. I climbed the steps, but the slide was wet and I didn’t want to sit down on it, but Grandpa pointed out the rainbow, and I thought since I was up at the top of the slide, I might be able to touch it.

Mundane images seared in my brain as if they happened just a while ago.

Yes. One camping trip, beach area San Clemente area. Several friends/family co-campers. Tents arranged like a wagon train defensive circle. That “inner circle” was our group “living room.“ We ended up with parents and itty bitty kids in the families’ tents, but the “bigger” kids got go to either the boys’ tent or girls’ tent. So it was like a week long slumber party. Of course, the dads did all the “construction” and slaughtered approaching columns of ants and the moms seemed to like helping each other with kitchen chores, or at least pretended to.

I love it. Home delivered bread before Uber, Peapod and DoorDash.

Ha! I hadn’t thought of it that way, but should have. She was the only “working outside the home” mom in our circle and she invented frozen waffles way before anyone else thought of it…other stuff, too.

 

[aaa]

I ate a good deal of bread growing up. Obviously, not now.