I was at a dinner with colleagues the other night in Hollywood and something of a miracle happened we ordered extra bread for the table and everyone ate it.

Especially in LA, everyone has a gluten thing or a carbs thing, or a [insert crazy fad diet] thing. At least it feels that way. But somehow we had assembled a table of 11 people gushing over the bread. 

To be clear, this wasn’t just any bread. Chunks, half a loaf size pieces, were delivered for everyone at the table. Not to share, a chunk was delivered for each person. They were hot and fragrant. They were perfectly crusted on the outside and moist and fresh on the inside. And, I don’t know what they did to it, but I swear these magical loaves were dusted with movie theater popcorn kisses on the outside. I’m possibly ruined for all bread forever.

Minutes later every last crumb of bread had disappeared into our bellies.

We hadn’t even begun to process how truly amazing that bread was until one of the team was like, “I’m just gonna go ahead and get some more bread for the table.”

Heck yes, you are! 

Let’s do it. 

Hands raised (okay, that was just me, because I still function at a 3rd grade level).

None, zero objections. 

Bread hard.

I’m in.

What I’m really getting at here is this: we’ve been trapped in our houses, staring at friends and colleagues over Zoom, and working on-site covered by masks and harassed by the Covid police (this is probably an industry-specific thing, but I digress) for two years now. When you finally get to break bread and spend time with friends and colleagues bread hard, man. Bread hard. 

Eat the bread, have the glass of wine, and don’t skip on dessert. (Obviously, if you have a legitimate food situation, don’t do anything stupid.) Skip the calorie counting and the carb chatter and just eat, drink, and be grateful to have the chance. 

(And, Alyson, who actually yelled “bread hard” at the table, thanks for naming this week’s post! Bread hard, sister!)