I love bread. I could probably survive without rice, but I know could not go on living without bread. I’m pretty sure this is my grandmother’s influence. Her diet mostly consisted of traditional Japanese cuisine, but for some reason breakfast was always coffee and toast. This was the way it was for all of us in the house for as long as I can remember. (And yes, I have been drinking coffee since I was a child). 

That was the beginning of my love for bread. My mother and I would often go to the neighborhood bakery to buy fresh bread. A core memory for me is the smell of the bakery when you walk in. I’ll never forget how every time I stepped in to the bakery I would be embraced by  its sweet aroma and experience pure heavenly bliss. Because I wanted to always be enwrapped in that fragrance, my childhood dream was to become a baker. This was the very first thing I ever wanted to be. 

However, the reality set in that baking requires meticulous precision work, and is just not well suited for me. I can make pancakes, and I am pretty good at it if I do say so myself.