“But then Oma tells me of bread, of the six hundred kinds made throughout her homeland, white and gray and black in color. Loaves heavy with pumpkin seeds. Pumpernickel. Rye. All with long, dense names like ‘Sonnenblumenkernbrot’ and ‘Roggenmischbrot’. Each word is music to her. She has never eaten a tinned bread bagged in plastic with a little twist tie, a pride she wears all over. ‘It matters,’ she tells me. ‘Wes Brot ich ess, des Lied ich sing.’
Whose bread I eat, his song I sing.” – Christa Parrish, Stones of Bread
Blame it on my German heritage but I love bread rolls. And bread in general. I grew up eating bread for breakfast, dinner and sometimes lunch. In the morning I would go to our neighbourhood bakery and pick up a bag of freshly baked rolls. At home, my mum would slice each roll in two half and I would start eating the soft middle part first before spreading butter and plum jam on it. In the evening we would eat sliced sourdough bread or leftover rolls from the morning topped with cold cuts and cheeses. I don’t remember that we had much else for breakfast and dinner. No salads, no warm meal (because these were reserved for lunch), no Mexican or Indian or Thai or Italian food. Just good old German bread and rolls….
