It’s 4 a.m. The aroma of fresh bread comes from flaming ovens. Buttery croissants are rolled, cut and shaped by hand at Ken’s Artisan Bakery in Portland. An hour later, the sweet smell of fresh baguette dough wafts past four bakers in jeans, t-shirts and aprons, their heads down, their floured hands dividing and shaping smooth, long loaves. The oven door clanks as the bread goes in.
Great bread is a welcome guest at breakfast, lunch or dinner. Used at breakfast to dip toasted corners into the yolk of an egg, as the handy housing for your sandwich, or as a vehicle for sauce mopping with dinner, bread is something most of us eat every day. Today, grocery stores everywhere stock freshly baked and delivered breads from nearby artisan bakeries. The bread I remember fondly when I was growing up, though, came in a red, white and blue plastic wrapper from Franz.