Clam chowder makes me very, very happy. Bread bowls of clam chowder make me even happier. To go to San Francisco and not have a bread bowl of clam chowder would be against my religion and my entire life philosophy. Julie had to listen to me chatter on about where, when, and how I would obtain this sourdough bread and chowder delight. I could not eat it at just any time as we ate our way across the city. It deserved to be eaten on an empty, grumbling tummy to fully appreciate the amazingness of it.
Julie prefers the chunky organic tomato soup bread bowl herself. She was not nearly as excited as I was but then again, my level of excited was not normal. As we people-watched and waited for our order, the anticipation was building. Just when I could not wait one more moment, it was placed on our table. Before I even tasted my chowder, I spent several moments inhaling the yumminess of the fresh-baked sourdough. I dove into my bread bowl headfirst and nearly shed a tear as each bite was better than the last.
Aside from my joyous reunion with Julie when I stepped off BART and onto the streets of SF, my bread bowl was hands down, the best part of my weekend. I even improvised an original love song, on the spot, about me and my bread bowl. Julie recorded it on her iPhone. I will have it forever as a cherished moment caught in time. But it is a private moment, too personal to share on my blog with my tens of readers. It captured the true essence and eternal innocence between me and my bread bowl... my one true love.
1 comment:
#1. Yum
#2. "...my tens of readers." You slay me! I often feel the same way. =)
Love you!
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