By Columnist Bob Bridge
According to Matthew, “Man shall not live on bread alone …”
That’s good to know because many of us prefer a variety of edibles. We chronically crave fruits, veggies, meat and, of course, sweet treats of all kinds.
Each year on January 17 we celebrate Buffet Day. Coincidentally, that is my birthday. More than one curious human has inquired if the B in Bob B. Bridge stands for buffet. Let me respond as honestly and accurately as possible: “It would certainly make sense if it did.”
If Matthew was mistaken and it was mandated for us to only consume bread, what in heaven’s name would I do?
Could I exist without Golden Corral’s savory chicken and dumplings? What about Grecco’s scrumptious pizza?
Could I survive sans O’Charley’s sensational cedar plank salmon? What about a frosty root beer from Bo-Mac’s, or minus those two delicious dips of pralines and cream from the ever popular Jiffy Treet?
Seriously, how bad could it be?
It is important to note I nearly expired when Empress Court closed its doors a few years ago. I’m not ashamed to confess this now: Roger Moon and I openly wept. We begged our friend Sarah to remain open. Local law enforcement deemed it necessary to list us on Suicide Watch.
Having revealed that embarrassing episode, I absolutely COULD survive on bread alone. However, there is a critical caveat: The aforementioned food must be luscious loaves of Mary Margaret Stipp’s homemade, freshly baked bread.
How good is it?
I had to anchor my shoes beneath my desk to keep from levitating.
The tantalizing scent teased my tastebuds and attracted hungry co-workers from every department in the building.
Was I unselfish with this tasty treasure?
I usually surreptitiously snuck a significant slice to devour immediately then stashed the remainder in the bottom drawer of my desk.
“Hey, I heard Mary Margaret delivered a loaf of bread. Did you see her?”
Saliva was drooling from the questioner’s lips.
I automatically put both palms up and simultaneously shrugged my shoulders. I was the perfect personification of blissful ignorance.
I know nothing.
In fact, I’m a natural thespian, born to play that role.
One clever character noted a half stick of butter resting amid the clutter atop my desk, clearly the messiest in the office..
Again, I portrayed the unknowing, village idiot.
“0h … that,” I stammered. “I think it dates back a few years.”
Unbelievably, the guy bought my explanation. Breadless and disappointed, he reluctantly slipped away.
How would I describe Mary Margaret’s bread?
Extraordinary. Incomparable. Heavenly.
Man cannot live on bread alone?
I wouldn’t bet the house on it.
Columnist Bob Bridge welcomes comments at 276-9646 or firstname.lastname@example.org.