As a high schooler, I could put away a foot-long steak and cheese Subway sub in less time than it took for my friends to consume a 6-incher. No joke. Then, in college, it'd be nothing for me to pound down three heaping plates of spaghetti and meat sauce at the dining hall, complete with bread sticks and maybe a waffle or bowl of cereal or whatever struck my fancy at the moment. To lose weight, all my scrawny frame had to do was breath.
I was reminded of those days long gone by as I stood in line Thursday amidst scrawny teens at Bread Kneads - that delectable bakery on South Blanchard Street. My usual chicken salad on cracked wheat was all I really wanted (and at $4.95 now, they might as well bump those up to $5 and toss in some chips or a pickle). But the frosted pumpkin bars tried to pick a fight with me. The sugar cookies hollared obscene things in my direction. And the bags of butterflake rolls got in my face and tried to demand that I sequester myself in a room with only them and leftovers strongly resembling the remains of a Thanksgiving feast.
Ever notice how, below the whirling ceiling fans, patron conversations and rich baking aroma is a low clanging sound in the Bread Kneads dining room? It's as if Metallica will soon be cranking out "For Whom the Bell Tolls" to add to the ambiance. And that wouldn't be entirely inappropriate, considering the assault on the senses that one must endure whenever they step foot in the joint.
Sometimes I prevail. Other times, too strong the lure of donuts and chocolate chip cookies is. Bakery Yoda closes his eyes, nods his head in complete understanding and then hands me a giant croissant.
What are some of your favorite goods, or should I label them as weaknesses, at Bread Kneads?