Oh, the bread!

My turn to add a little content :)  There are many ways in which the pieces of Europe on our itinerary have been notably similar to various places I have inhabited or spent a lot of time in back in the US. These days, retail is so global that there are many familiar stores, including a strong presence of 7-11 in Stockholm, not to mention the US clothing stores all over the Marais and surrounding areas.  Much to Emma's surprise, and sometimnes dismay, some of the less entrancing aspects of home are here, too.  Subway entrances and ubrban stairways sometime stink of urine, just as they do in New York City.  Inevtiable litter blows in the street and sidewalks are gritty and grungy. And there is graffiti everywhere, perhaps even more than at home (much like my experiences in Italy).  Of course there are differences, too.  There are amazingly many cafes, where watching passers-by almost seems like a sporting event with grandstand seating. And culture and arts have pride of place that is not so often found back home. 

But, one thing that has continued to surprise me is the bread.  Every piece of bread I have encountered, even the slightly stale baguette slices that they put down on the table in every little cafe here in Paris, have a richness of flavor that is very hard to come by in the US.  The flavor of Paris is distinct - slightly sour, but not assertive, like it is in San Francisco, and powerfully yeasty.  There are variations - pain complet (whole grain bread) and demi-complet - but they all seem to have a uniquely Parisian taste. 

And then there was Sweden.  This is the bread of my genes, and my genes have apparently not forgotten.  There were some lovely white breads, again somewhat sour, but not as yeasty as in Paris, but my choice of the last few days was ubiquitous brown rye breads, with subtle notes of cardamom and other Scandinavian spices.  Rich and moist and full of grainy flavors, some slightly sour, but most with a subtle sweetness.  I enjoyed them for both breakfast and lunch in several settings.  Yum!  And then this morning in Stockholm, the Story Hotel SignalFabirken put out a rich, dark, seeded whole grain bread with the distinct sweetness of molasses - oh my!  Apparently known as kavring, it was very dense, very rich, and very, very good.  I'm sure it would have been outstanding with gravlax or the smoked/cured meats that are a Swedish breakfast staple, but it was amazing all by itself, with a little butter.  

So as I sat reflecting on the train to the airport about what was my most prominent impression of the trip so far, loaves of wonderful fragrant bread popped into my mind and would not be dislodged.  So there you have it - not pain perdu, but pain souvenu.