I've been stuck with whole wheat bread since childhood. Grandma Weller always had Roman Meal on hand at her house. I hated it. It is hard to say which tasted worse - Grandma's Roman Meal or the Lumberjack bread that my dad favored. I didn't know you could make bread with sawdust; I didn't know bread was supposed to crunch when you ate it.
Nowadays I don't mind the crunchy bread as much. It's tasty enough and, if it is better for me, then great.
Today, though, when I went to the bread outlet to pick up a couple of loaves I was disappointed (okay, not really) to find that they were out of the good-for-you stuff. They had dozens of loaves of Wonder Bread, though. White wrappers. Multi-colored dots. Memory filled.
I was tempted to untwist the tie right there and take a big whiff. Thinking that the clerk might wonder what a forty-three-year-old dude was doing with his head stuck in a plastic wrapper, though, I waited until I got home and had supper. Tracy made pot roast and veggies and it was great. I pulled out a couple of slices and dipped them in the au jus. Oh. My. Goodness. A super-tasty carb-filled trip down memory lane.
It is a small thing, and I expect that I'll be back chewing oats again pretty soon. (Much sooner when the boys find out there is Wonder in the pantry.) I'm pretty certain that a little bit of bleached flour isn't gonna kill me. I'm not going to make a habit of it.
Now, if I can just find some butter and colby cheese . . .