Colm O’Regan: Pain and Circumstances

Give us today our hourly bread. I’m not sure where sliced ​​casserole goes these days. Well, I do. It is the Two. They turned into bread mills. In the sense that they are milled into bread.

On weekend mornings, getting up alone to make their own toast. It’s cute until you see how they dug into the butter like they were mining it for rare earth metals.

Bread is now ubiquitous on the shopping list. I don’t know when a slice has lasted long enough to go moldy.

Only a slice that is actively trying to escape behind candied cherries or other seasonal produce could do enough days to acquire a bit of Rhizopus stolonifer – to give bread mold its more scientific and much cooler name.

I think I’ll name the villain in my nonexistent sci-fi novel about an asteroid, Stolonifer Rhizopus.

Before the kids, we briefly went through the “blaming the bread” phase in which it was the bread, not the beer and cakes, that caused the soft centers. “Yeah, we barely eat bread now,” I said to someone who was bored. “It’s almost a delight here. If it has to be, it’s an old grain.

It was rarely true. There was bread. But we often had trouble getting old Mr Rhizopus out of the door.

The favorite bread of the moment is the Brennans Be Good model. I am not promoting the product although part of me wishes I had been in the running for the position of Old Mr Brennan in commercials.

A voice-over gig that effectively “sees” you. It was given to proper actor and voiceover Owen Roe (Vikings and a Rake of Stuff) a few years ago. He was a guy called Bill Golding since 1382.

The choice of bread is dictated by Les Deux. They sense when you’re trying to hoodwink them, and for now the little emperors’ favor rests with the new Old Mr. Brennan.

They are also fond of Best Of Both sliced ​​casseroles (and their Laldi and Tesco equivalents). I have to admit my skepticism about a sliced ​​skillet that is a mix of brown and white.

It looks like a sliced ​​white casserole that just got back from vacation in a sunny location, but I’m happy to believe science if the wrappers say it’s the best of both or “Two Good”. I guess if brown bread is supposed to be healthier than white bread, then what white bread brings to the table is “it tastes good with a hangover”

It’s a homecoming for me. Growing up, it was all about bread. It was snack and food. “If you’re hungry you can’t eat bread,” my mother used to say like a realistic Marie-Antoinette.

But I haven’t always done that. For a few years in elementary school, I didn’t like my cheese sandwiches. I might swap some of these with another boy who had mostly Mikado cookies for his lunch. He found himself a foot taller than me. But it couldn’t absorb all my leftover cheese sandwich, so there were soon generations of molded sandwiches in the bag, resulting in a large amount of ergot.

The consumption of bread would still pale with the Middle Ages. They didn’t have fries or lasagna back then, so bread was often the staple. Up to two pounds a day. More than a pan full of slices. Bread was then the center of food.

This caused religious conflict throughout the Middle Ages as people argued over which bread should be Holy Communion. If you ate rye bread with the fungus Claviceps purpurea on it, you’ve caught St. Anthony’s fire, a disease that has caused hallucinations, boils, dropping of your limbs, and death.

So, in comparison, a few spots of Rhizopus stolonifer are acceptable. If I ever see him again.

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