I handed him a loaf of bread and he made a joke about orgasm. That’s because to him, bread is pleasure…and shame. For the past year, he’s been Paleo. He dropped fifty pounds and started lifting weights. He feels better than he’s ever felt. Wheat had become the enemy, and he was hitting the streets to preach the word. He’s now a man married devoutly to protein, he assured me. He would only sneak bread on the side. Later that day, he sent me a private picture of himself stuffing a piece of toast into his mouth with a … Read more

This is a guest post by Claudia F. Savage   In the years before the birth of my daughter, River, I had serious insomnia. The only thing that calmed me was baking my mother’s wheat bread, the first recipe I knew from memory. In the starlit cold of the Colorado mountains, I shuffled to the dark pantry, pulled out whole wheat flour, honey, yeast, and my largest cream-colored bowl, its soft glow the only light on the way to the counter. The act of stirring and kneading a known rhythm, a balm, in the still dark. The bread didn’t … Read more

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in … Read more