Supan is my wife’s name for supermarket bread,(a literal translation super-pan). Something I have only eaten when there’s nothing we made or bought at a genuine bakery. Until today. And let me tell you, Supan will never ever again grace my delicate palette. Well, never is a long time. But let’s just say that it reminded me of a maxim worth pocketing. Here goes: factory bread sold in big supermarkets should be labeled something other than bread. Cause it may cost dough but it ain’t dough.
Here’s a tip. If you’re ever out of your own homemade or reputable local bakery bought bread, then just eat some yogurt till your bread is out of the oven! Oh, yeah, I guess I’m saying that it’s worth buying bakery bread or baking it yourself. And it is! Sorry for the exclamation points but the subject does produce a slight froth in my brain. Partially because of the injustice of food economics today, namely they way wheat and corn commodities have skyrocketed. Not only has corn syrup filled virtually everything on supermarkets shelves of all basic food groups, but now it competes with oil to fill the bellies of our gas hungry cars! What will happen to the basic food stuff of every day life? Bread! Kind of spooky, no?
Where was I? Oh, yeah, bread. Fake bread. Supan. Out of desperation for some nourishment for breakfast, I toasted a couple slices for a quick bacon and egg sandwich. While waiting, I read the label on the bag of this lifeless loaf, figuring the manufacturer was sure to include that famous government pyramid graph extolling the virtues of grains and good eating, bread being one of those important groups!
But the worst was the list of ingredients that made me cringe – all the say down to the barrows of my bowels. Indeed, this wasn’t just water, flour, and salt and all the normal ingredients, including umpronounceable mystery preservatives. But worse, hateful, the scourge of anyone who actually loves real food… what I saw right there on the bread I was toasting… corn sweetener, the ingredient that makes us obese and god knows what else?
Fortunately, I had fed my starter for a loaf of my favorite miche the night before!
So dear wife (and readers) no more supan. No mas. No mas. Though I have to start making sandwich loaves for my truly American favorite, a peanut butter sandwich. Perhaps sourdough.