I am old enough to remember the baker coming to my parents’ house with a basket of freshly baked bread on his arm. Like the milkman, he drove an electric van. I’m sure this practice continued in some country areas well after it ceased in cities like the one I lived in. Bread was bread. You bought it in… well, bread shapes, with square sides and crusty, risen tops. You could get small or large, brown or white. Then came sliced bread, which had to be wrapped, of course. The range on sale increased to include thick sliced or thin sliced. It no longer smelt, nor tasted, very much like bread – and it took around ten days to go mouldy. Because of that, and its lack of bread taste and bread smell, it didn’t seem much like food.
A few months ago I bought a loaf of real bread*. I don’t mean the kind of bread the baker used to bring round in his electric van, I mean the kind of bread people were eating before such vans were invented. The loaf I bought didn’t look particularly like bread (not rectanglar, not in floppy slices). Nor did it taste much like bread, not the kind of bread I had become used to, anyway. All I’m going to say about this bread is that since buying that first loaf I won’t even consider buying any other kind.
I see there is a Campaign for Real Bread. When you get the page with the map, click on the ‘Real Bread’ (in green, under the map) to learn what real bread – and the other stuff – is.