On Moldy Bread
As I sit here consuming my breakfast of coffee and toast made of moldy bread I am reminded of the old Russian proverb that if God listened to every shepherd's curse, our sheep would all be dead. Why you ask? Because if moldy bread killed homo sapiens, we would all be dead!
The loaf of bread from which my toast was made had a nice cluster of blue mold colonies on the top and cut end. But, what the heck, we pay good money for blue cheese with blue mold colonies in it. So why not bread, you ask? Because blue bread, even with the largest colonies surgically removed, tastes like, well, moldy bread. It's safe to say that blue bread will never become the commercial success of its dairy cousin.
The only consulation of this whole dining experience is that I can now better empathise with those unfortunate people in the past who sustained themselves on moldy bread. Reading Les Miserables is one thing; living it is another.
The loaf of bread from which my toast was made had a nice cluster of blue mold colonies on the top and cut end. But, what the heck, we pay good money for blue cheese with blue mold colonies in it. So why not bread, you ask? Because blue bread, even with the largest colonies surgically removed, tastes like, well, moldy bread. It's safe to say that blue bread will never become the commercial success of its dairy cousin.
The only consulation of this whole dining experience is that I can now better empathise with those unfortunate people in the past who sustained themselves on moldy bread. Reading Les Miserables is one thing; living it is another.
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