21 Comments
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lisa raiola's avatar

Yes! The simple loaf summons.. and snares. In the best way. Bread is life

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Ed Iannuccilli's avatar

Indeed. And maybe love . . .

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Robert Tyzbir's avatar

Remember the day you invited Joe Luca and me to play golf at Metacomet? Before we played you ordered a basket of toasted italian bnread. Doc, I've been eating toasted italian bread every since. 3 slices drippping with butter each morning. Toasted italian bread and butter and happy momories of fun day with cousins..... can't be beat!!

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Ed Iannuccilli's avatar

Bob, it's so great that you remembered that. Tosted Italian bread floating in butter was a Metacomet staple. To quote my mother, "Nobody didn't like it."

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patti.'s avatar

Love this My grandmother was from Ireland and she baked bread twice a week My love affairn with her bread is similiar to yours except no gravy.

Fridays the grandchildren had fried dough for lunch, my favorite. She would cut pieces o the doughand drop in the deep frying pan. To us there was nothing better than, that ,except her baking,

I honestly became a bread snob early. I loved homemade bread so much I rarely ate regular bread and am still like that. Special memories!! Oh, to have those moments again

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Ed Iannuccilli's avatar

Thanks, Patti. Yes, stay the snob forever. It means love... of grandmother, of bread, ofritters.

I loved my grandmother's fried dough also. Thanks for reminding me. I would have put it in the article had i remembered. We called it pizza fritte.

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Loretta Murphy's avatar

Great story, Ed. Growing up in Warren, we had a baker working out of a garage with a big oven. He made Italian bread and every Sunday his bread came out hot at 4:00. Mom would send me to get 2 loaves for our dinner. It never arrived home intact!! Always an end was missing by the time I arrived home. It was the best bread I have ever had!! Just warm fresh out of the oven, no butter! Oh that memory! Thanks, Ed.

O

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Ed Iannuccilli's avatar

I can feel the warmth of your bread. Lucky you to get there before he sold out, Loretta.

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Loretta Murphy's avatar

👍

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Laurie DiBattista's avatar

Such a hot warming story. My dad worked at Harvest Bakery for years as a machinist. It was down the street from where we lived. I remember running there after school and sitting on the tables waiting for the bread to come out.....hot and fresh...yummy. It was the best.

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Ed Iannuccilli's avatar

Ah, yes, and the smells, Laurie, the smells.

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Larry Goldberg's avatar

Wonderful stories about bread. I, too, loved baloney with good old Wonder bread, but I used mayonnaise. When I went to the deli, I loved fresh baked bagels done in Jewish tradition, boiled and then baked, as well as pletzel, a flatbread topped with onions and poppy seeds. Unfortunately, no one bakes pletzels anymore. As for literary references, I'll add Leviticus, "Bread is the staff of life."

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Ed Iannuccilli's avatar

Yes, in bread, as in Leviticus' day, there is spirituality.

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Edward Markward's avatar

Grazie, Ed. Your Monday musings are sorely needed amongst the chaos. Something warm to read instead of the coldness that abounds around us.

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Ed Iannuccilli's avatar

Thank you, Ed. You are correct. I do this to distract myself and hopefully others from the mess we are in as a nation. Healthcare is deplorable and will get worse. So, I'm off to eat a loaf of bread. It's on the pyramid someplace . . .

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Rhode Island Observer's avatar

Good stuff, Ed. Your olfactory memory is phenomenal. On my (German) side of town, we especially enjoyed "stollen" during the holiday season. Low cal, it wasn't. And speaking of Wonder Bread, you may recall that in the late '60s it went from building strong bodies 8 ways to building them 12 ways. Always, uh, "wondered" how they did that. Turns out the FTC investigated: https://daily.jstor.org/history-of-wonder-bread/.

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Ed Iannuccilli's avatar

Stollen; new to me. Yes, in those 8 to 12 years, I wondered why I got so strong so quickly.

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Peter Voccio JR.'s avatar

Bread, yes, nice crispy and not too soft on inside with a grilled sausage and my favorite Amstel light beer. I always utter awe on my first bite and always satisfied on my last bite. Bread makes a hearty day. Hats off to all the bakers that serve the precious bread. It's a work of art.

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Ed Iannuccilli's avatar

Ah, yes, the grilled sausage. Now you took me to Fenway Park. So you too see the nostalgia of bread, Peter.

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Bill Corrao's avatar

Brings back great memories , aromas gravy and the all important end il cantuccio

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Ed Iannuccilli's avatar

In the dialect, Bill, the heel is 'candozz'

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