Stopped eating bread a while ago. I was at a dinner in NYC with a friend of mine and bread came up in conversation. Apparently he doesn’t eat bread, just stopped one-day years ago, yes, years ago, and that fascinated me. Mostly because it had never occurred to me not to eat bread, I mean why would it? Bread is everywhere.

Once you decide to stop you need to establish some rules.   It’s confusing out there. For instance, how do you classify pizza crust? Or a quesadilla? What about the bread crust, is it different from bread? Is corn OK but not wheat? All hard calls. I say pizza is OK on Friday when you have a house full of people and you need to order in. Quesadillas are the gateway to cheese so they are out. Bread crusts are a hard call but I vote they are technically part of bread so they are out as well. Corn vs. Wheat is an epic debate but Rice trumps them both. My money is on the rice, long grain wild rice from Lundberg, gotta love those Rice Chips.

So there I am getting off a plane in Amsterdam at 6a local time, a bit jet lagged, starving, and searching for a place serving breakfast at the crack of dawn. I kid you not the only place I can find is called bread!. No joke. And they have a gazillion loaves of bread on display. It’s like a bad dream.

Everything on the menu has bread: sandwiches, toast, French toast, some kind of Dutch bagel, bread to go by the slice or loaf. Unreal. Luckily in the far corner of the refrigerated section I find a yogurt.   I know, I know, if no cheese then where do you draw the line? That’s another story but yogurt is allowed in moderation, when you are in Amsterdam, at 6a, surrounded by a gazillion loaves.

I go to check out. “Vord a vilma nona breada?” I smile and explain, “American.” “Oh” says the checkout lady in perfect English, “Won’t you have some bread?” She looks sort of offended. “No thanks.” Pause.  She glances at the sign that reads bread! (yes with an exclamation point!). “But our bread is very good,” she smiles pointing to the sign and nodding aggressively. “No thanks, don’t eat bread.” Long pause.  Her smile vanishes and she looks concerned. “No bread? Why no bread?”

I explain, “I have this friend in NYC …” She starts moving away from me, clearly nervous. I continue on, “and you need to have some rules to keep in line…” She calls over another checkout lady for reinforcement. “So if you have people over on Friday…” No response, I think they speak English but I’m beginning to wonder, “and I do love those rice chips…” They nod, fake a smile and retreat to the back room, never losing eye contact. I think they might have locked the door.

I am left all alone with my yogurt. “Wait, wait, excuse me, do you have any fresh carrot or a green juice? Maybe with a shot of ginger and a little cayenne?”

You can take the boy out of SoCal, but…