Bread

I guess the word has a different meaning for different people. For some it’s just food, for some it’s a profession, for some a means to survive.

For me, it has always been a sign of stability — not always consciously realised, not something I focused on, but something I notice the moment it’s not there.

Bread was a part of all our meals when I was a child. We put it on the table like we put utensils. I could not imagine a meal without a fork or a slice of bread.

Then, in my teens, cutting down on bread became a healthy trend. You heard about it everywhere. Putting on weight, dieting, and looking slim became a thing. I stopped eating bread with potato dishes, but kept eating it with everything else.

When I moved to Japan, a new bread epoch started for me. There was a lot of soft white bread, croissants, and other types of bread that looked fancy to me at the time. I was excited to try everything, and for a couple of years I really enjoyed it.

But then I noticed I was missing “proper bread” — something hard, something you can chew, something you can actually eat, not just put into your mouth and swallow. Apparently, it’s a common experience among Western expats.

With time, I discovered German bakeries where I could find the kind of bread I was used to. I also learnt how to freeze bread and defrost it so that it still tastes and smells freshly baked.

Since then, many of my eating habits have changed. My diet has become very Japanese in many ways, but a morning toast with a good slice of bread has stayed with me.

The first place I check when I go somewhere is a bakery. A good bakery nearby was on my list of conditions when I was looking for an apartment in Krakow.

Shortly after I moved to Krakow, some friends from Australia came to visit me. We spent a lot of time walking around the city. I mentioned how impressive the number of bakeries in Krakow was, to which my friend replied, “But it’s junk food.”

I was startled by the phrase “bread — junk food”. I couldn’t quite process it at the time. I needed space to think.

If you look at it purely logically, without emotion, bread is not the healthiest food. It’s no superfood; it has more calories and less fibre than other options.

But when I think about it in my own way, I remember baking bread with my grandmother. I could never get the shape right. I got everything covered in flour. But I can see her next to me — her hand with an old-style wedding ring, also covered in flour — showing me how to work with the dough.

I remember my grandfather starting his lunch with a crunchy bread heel.

My grandparents passed away a long time ago, but bread connects me to those memories. And through them, I can still feel what it was like to be a small girl, cared for and safe.

I would still have all of that even if I never had another slice of bread in my life.
But having it… is deeply comforting.

Can I imagine my life without bread? Certainly.
Do I want to? I don’t.

It’s my way of feeling grounded.

My anchor.