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What can be said about this soft, flat Armenian bread that sums up just how yummy it is? Let’s just say this: if you’ve ever been in the Southwest of America and fallen in love with Navajo, Zuni or Hopi fry bread then you’ll love lavash. If you haven’t then you need to get out more, I mean, really, damn.
memories of my ghost sista 
I’ve had never been a bread fan, until I started travelling…the Middle East, North Africa, Germany, France, Mexico, inter-tribal pow-wows, and on and on. Now I love what other people call bread, but American packaged bread…Baaarf. The wife bought a loaf of white bread the other day – in fucking Costa Rica…said she was craving the kind of French toast she had when she was a kid. I indulge her whims. Garbage…I was embarassed a bit when the woman rung it up at the cajero.
Got to get on some writing today…haven’t put anything down for three days. I feel as constipated as a junkie.
Later…
For the longest time bread was like tomatoes to me: bland and tasteless people ate for reasons I could never gather. Then I had a tomato not full of chemicals and whatever sin they put in it to keep it red all year long and realized the problem wasn’t the fruit but the farmers who raised them. Now that I’ve become gluten-intolerant (damn lying bread!) I’ve started to hanker for flour tortillas, but nothing is worth stomach cramps and that shaky-pale feeling I get when I’ve eaten wheat. Oh well.
I remember hearing a few years ago that some accountatnt figured out tomato growers could save X amount of dollars in shipping if the tomatoes were square, and more packable. Some scientist did it – “…no job too dirty for a fucking scientist…” – from “The Western Lands” by William Burroughs.
But, people wouldn’t buy them…too stuck on the image of a tomato to buy one that didn’t match their pre-conception. Don’t miss all that poison at all. The fruit and veggies here come in odd looking shapes, with birth defects, and a bit bruised sometimes…but no preservatives of pesticides, usually.
On my Way…
Yes, I find it odd that I get more upset at scientists for messing around with our food’s DNA than when they split the atom. Perhaps because nuclear devices are more science-fictiony than the food I eat on a daily basis, perhaps. If 1950s B-movies teach us anything it’s that scientists will fuck over everyone with them provided that they get to see “the greatest scientific discovery of the century” (I’m thinking about the movie The Thing where it’s shown early on that the alien will kill and can’t be stopped easily and yet the scientist at the American base will still sabotage any efforts made to kill it because … he is stupid and wants to earn that year’s Darwin Award, I suppose)