Today I had the top of a muffin for breakfast and I must admit that it was very tasty. It reminded me very much of the time of my life when everyone I knew was a barista and I ate millions of muffin-tops off day-old pastries. Blueberry muffins with the crumbly junk on top were always my favorite.
The second reason that I found the muffin very satisfying is that it came from a bakery and I have very ambitious feelings about bakeries. To be clear, it’s not that I like coffee shops overmuch. Nope, I’ve never been one to patronize coffee shops, even though I love to loiter with what I might call a delightful decaf-coffee-bev. Probably I’m just afraid that someone will call me a pseudo-intellectual when I hang out in coffee shops looking pensive, and since I am a pseudo-intellectual I don’t want anyone to blow my cover.
Anyway, I like bakeries because when I imagine myself I like to think that I am the sort of person who frequents bakeries. I try to believe that this is just because I am naturally nostalgic and I like small business and quaint things and I definitely love bread. But it’s possible that I’m just lying to myself.
Maybe this is a product of Hollywood. Imagine for me (look how bossy I am, regardless of national holidays like Veteran’s Day) the beginning of some unlikely love story movie.
The likeable and endearingly loopy character surely stops at a bakery during the opening sequence and the bakeristas will know his or her (her or John Cussack) by name. Peppy music will fade, he/she will jovially get the “regular” donut and coffee bev combo and pleasantries will be exchanged.
Now, you might think that this is used to create juxtaposition with the other, more uptight character (who will probably be trash-talking a cabby while drinking a raw egg for breakfast) so that we know exactly how unlikely the love affair will be.
Really, though, I think Hollywood is trying to tell us that people who go to bakeries are plenty more charming than people who drink raw egg protein drinks while looking at their Rolex. And I’ve never known them to lie before.
The second reason that I found the muffin very satisfying is that it came from a bakery and I have very ambitious feelings about bakeries. To be clear, it’s not that I like coffee shops overmuch. Nope, I’ve never been one to patronize coffee shops, even though I love to loiter with what I might call a delightful decaf-coffee-bev. Probably I’m just afraid that someone will call me a pseudo-intellectual when I hang out in coffee shops looking pensive, and since I am a pseudo-intellectual I don’t want anyone to blow my cover.
Anyway, I like bakeries because when I imagine myself I like to think that I am the sort of person who frequents bakeries. I try to believe that this is just because I am naturally nostalgic and I like small business and quaint things and I definitely love bread. But it’s possible that I’m just lying to myself.
Maybe this is a product of Hollywood. Imagine for me (look how bossy I am, regardless of national holidays like Veteran’s Day) the beginning of some unlikely love story movie.
The likeable and endearingly loopy character surely stops at a bakery during the opening sequence and the bakeristas will know his or her (her or John Cussack) by name. Peppy music will fade, he/she will jovially get the “regular” donut and coffee bev combo and pleasantries will be exchanged.
Now, you might think that this is used to create juxtaposition with the other, more uptight character (who will probably be trash-talking a cabby while drinking a raw egg for breakfast) so that we know exactly how unlikely the love affair will be.
Really, though, I think Hollywood is trying to tell us that people who go to bakeries are plenty more charming than people who drink raw egg protein drinks while looking at their Rolex. And I’ve never known them to lie before.
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