A sonnet to bread

I could write an ode to bread. Okay, maybe not an ode. Odes are long and I'm not that good, but a sonnet. I could definitely write a sonnet to bread. In fact, I think I shall.

To Bread

O bread, you crusty loaf divine,

With outside brown and inside white,

I wish that I could make you mine,

Devouring all within my sight.

A little heat and you are toast

With butter and a touch of jam

Or honey golden you may boast.

How fond of toasted bread I am.

A stew has need of rolls for sop,

Again with butter on it spread.

Those scrumptious juices you can mop.

The joy of you goes to my head.

So many ways I can employ

A little bread. I must enjoy.

I write this because I more and more am convinced that my gluten test will fail. It isn't for another two weeks. But soon. Soon I will know.

I have been reading a lot about gluten intolerance. And it doesn't look like the wasteland it once was. For one thing, once I find other grains I can enjoy, there are a lot of bready treats that will still be available to me. For instance, I have heard the best scones are made with rice flour. And who said banana bread has to be made with wheat? I'm sure I will be able to find a way to make foods I will love. But right now, as I am going through this testing stage, life is a little difficult. My husband does not want to find himself on the diet. And he eats a lot of toast. Of course, he does. It's an easy food to prepare. So he naturally prepares it. Where I can smell it.

I'm not really complaining. Not much. I'm glad my husband is not getting all sore and resentful that I, who am acknowledged as the cook of the family, am not cooking much in the way of foods he is interested in. He has been thrown onto his own resources and he has stepped up to the plate. But right now, as I am suffering deprivations, it is a little bit hard. Thus my sonnet to bread. I think I need to go concentrate on what I can have.

Happy eating all!