Mexican bread :)

Who this is, where it came from, I don't know.

When I was a kid, my stepdad occasionally brought home Mexican bread from work. I only remember the ones with pink and yellow stuff on top. His coworkers gave him food, he would bring it home, and it would get eaten by someone, usually. All I remember is how dry and crumbly they were, and I decided that for the rest of my life, I would eschew Mexican breads of all kind.

Fast-forward to today, and I have discovered that I love Mexican bread. I have to keep myself from going to the panaderia every day. It's on my way to work, and it's only a couple blocks away from my house, and it's always soft and fresh. I can't get enough of it. I'm always the whitest person in the place, and the only one speaking English, but I don't care. I want the bread! It's my newest coping mechanism. I got coffee there once, but it wasn't worth it. Most people don't drink coffee there anyway. They get champurrado, which is excessive to my anti-dairy palette.

If I go at 9, it's less fresh. If I go before 7, it's the best: light and airy and a little warm. Ahhhh... Just thinking about it makes me feel happy and peaceful :)