The favorite is a small French bread roll. It appears at every breakfast and most lunches, and is quite delicious in its simplicity. Our housekeeper Lu buys it every morning. I asked her to stop buying it, but then soon realized her diet consisted mostly of this bread. So back it came, every morning.
Bread alone probably wouldn’t be as devastating to one’s diet if it wasn’t engaged to that nasty life-long partner, butter. But try and suggest that perhaps a breakfast, or “cafe,” might be just as good without bread, and you’ll receive a cold, empty stare as if you just suggested the world might be a better place with a few more dictatorships.
So, in order to continue my path to becoming Brazilian, I’ve given in to bread. I can only hope Mr. Barry Sears was wrong.