I like all kinds of bread: sourdoughs, boules, bloomers, ficelles, and fougasses, baked in a loaf or braided on a tray. But with all the focus on whole grains and flours lately, my first love, the simple white loaf, has gone untouched, staring from its waxed paper bag on bakery shelves at the rustic ryes and miches as they jump into wicker handbags and totes destined for tartine greatness.
I say let those loaves have their fancy hams, their cornichon, and their cultured butter. Let them be torn into croutons, pulsed into breadcrumbs, and drizzled with olive oil. Let them be smeared with the finest pâté and topped with sautéed greens. Let them call themselves "toast."
Meanwhile, this white sandwich bread and I are making a PB & J. In fact, without white bread where would Skippy Chunky and grape jelly meet and fall in love? What would you use to sop up meaty barbecue drippings? What would you butter, sprinkle with salt, and eat standing on one foot leaning against the sink contemplating life's great mysteries?
Let the other loaves play to their strengths and let the simple loaf shine where it ought to (everywhere): French toast, club sandwiches, BLTs, and tuna sandwiches. PB & J's, cream cheese & J's, patty melts, and grilled cheeses. Let's stop asking whole grain loaves to do something they're not built to do and give white bread stand the spotlight doing what it does best, that is, being a sure thing.
For my last hurrah at Bon Appétit, I made you a loaf of white bread. It is easy, it is forgiving, it is flexible, and it is accommodating. The dough is soft and supple, but don't cheat on the kneading—15 minutes, no less. Let it rise above the edge of the loaf pan before baking, then score it down the center with your sharpest knife. Brush the top with butter and relax as it perfumes the house with it's golden aromas. That fragrance will feel like a hug.
Let it cool slightly if you can. But promise me you'll eat at least one slice warm and buttered. Eat it slowly. Then do what you like with the rest, it can do anything. Make this bread this summer for sandwiches, and every season thereafter and think of me. I'm thinking of you.