Slice of Life

I have to tell you, I love bread. This goes back to my A&P days when, under the trade name Jane Parker, the store sold really good bread, old fashioned sandwich bread, and the wrapper called it "a hearty, firm-type loaf." 

I think that awkward wording about their fine products contributed to the A&P's demise. I mean, who calls their bread "a hearty, firm-type loaf," for crying out loud?

Sometimes, I'd rather have the bread than the sandwich. I like rye and sourdough the most - anything but that spongy white Wonder bread nonsense.

And when I'm at Lidl or Aldi or Weis, I don't mind shelling out a little extra for my toast, if the bread is good.

But I have to draw the line at this bakery just recently opened in New York City's chi-chi Soho neighborhood. The bakery is called Rye, and the question should be, "Rye are you willing to pay $60 for a loaf of bread?"

But that's the ticket price, and according to all up there, people are breaking their neck to get a loaf or rye sourdough advertised as having just four ingredients:  water, flour, salt and time.

The co-owner of this breadatorium, Tim Auer, says they have to charge 60 simoleons because it's a big loaf for sale in a pricey area.

“First of all, it’s a lot of bread,” he says. “It’s about 3.3 pounds, and we not only sell the whole loaf for $60, but we also sell half a loaf or a quarter of the loaf for either $30 or $15.”

“The price is also the result of all the efforts and costs that went into this, whether that’s importing the organic rye flour from Austria or baking it right here on site on Lafayette Street,” he adds.

And the time aspect, Tim? 

“You need to ferment the rye sourdough,” he says. “You need to feed it every day. That takes about 24 hours before you can use it again. Then you need to make the dough, ferment the dough, shave the bread, ferment the dough again, bake it, and then you have to let it rest.”

“The thing with rye sourdough bread is that when you take it out of the oven and try to cut it right away, it’s not going to work well,” he continues. “You’re going to basically rip it apart while doing so. It’s a bit like cutting dough. ... And so, it needs to rest for at least eight, but more about 12 hours, before you then can actually sell it or eat it.”

Sell it? Eat it? For 60 bucks, I might have to frame it!