This is not about pizza. It’s about bread.
I never really understood the Atkins diet because I never really grew up around bread on a daily basis. They were treats more than sustenance. It just struck me as weird. I grew up around rice, noodles and tortillas. I couldn’t imagine finding reasons to justify cutting something so fundamental to your DNA out into the cold and suddenly claim it a leper.
It’s very powerful what a word can do.
Misused words can completely shape shift reality and make people believe things, no matter the truth or falsehoods.
I’m not really talking about Atkins anymore..
Bread for Asians was white toast, Pillsbury crescents, King’s Hawaiian, and frozen garlic bread. Where my Asians at?!
There weren’t too many hearth baked pugliese loafs with crusty crusts thick with crowning ears. I found those type of breads on my first trip to Europe in the mid nineties. It changed my perspective on a lot of things. I was just a supermarket and liquor store kid before that.
I’ve been on the search for the perfect baguette and croissant ever since. But no matter how much artisan breads fascinate my imagination and my quest, I can’t front.
I love thin crust. It’s who I am. It represents a different state of mind. It’s a mutant.
There is no more magical mutant to me than the red bean bun. I search them over from Rowland Heights to Arcadia to Torrance to Koreatown. If they are coming hot out the oven, I’ve elbowed you out of my way to get up front.
If I got ten dollars, then nine go to red bean buns and a dollar goes to cheap coffee.
If you try to pick pocket me you might get a red bean bun instead of my wallet.