My dad use to drive a truck and one of his more famous and anticipated stops was the local Amoroso bakery in Philly (a legendary bakery for rolls). He would deliver boxes and in return the guys on the loading dock would give him bags of just out of the oven rolls. He would then come home and my sister and I would slather butter on the warm bread to the dismay of my mom who was cooking dinner. She knew that trying to feed us after we’ve ingested our body weight in bread was a no starter, so much of her hard work was relegated to the Tupperware container for leftovers the next day. So my bread addiction started early and it wasn’t until I was old enough to travel that I discovered all the wonderful varieties of bread and pastries that the world had to offer. While I wish I had my Mom’s willpower and thin figure, I was always going to identify more with the Pillsbury Doughboy (yum, crescent rolls…..) and need to go to the gym a lot in the hopes of negating the bad (yummy) carbs.
The first time I visited Paris in the 90′s, I was overwhelmed by the choices – croissants, pain au chocolate and baguettes everywhere. People walked to the neighborhood boulangerie daily for their breads and pastries. Fresh baked bread was a wonderful discovery back then (sorry Strohmann, Wonder, Pillsbury and all the other breads of my youth). My bread addiction was elevated after that visit and bread would begin to seduce me around the world (along with wine too!) as I searched out the local bakery in every new city and port.