St John Bread (Wine, I Can't Speak of)

I've said it before, but I work in a very good London spot for food indulgences, and my pay check thoroughly supports the local community. At the triangle between Farringdon, Islington, and Exmouth Market, there are some superb gastronomic experiences to be had. One of them is at St. John Bread and Wine, just a few minutes walk from my office.

I have eaten at the restaurant before and agreed with Anthony Bourdain that the roasted marrow was amazing (though Anthony took it a bit further, going into rapture over them and maybe even hearing angels singing as he took his first bite). St John Bread and Wine also does what it says on the tin: it's a functioning wine bar and bakery, and there are some wonderful loaves of bread on sale if you care to pop in and buy one. I care, and so I bought.

We try to be healthy, Mr. A&N and I, so we normally opt for wholewheat bread, but the white on offer at St. John was the crusty fragrant stuff you normally associate with stolen moments in front of a Parisian bakery window watching the natives queue for the bakery's best bread. White it would be, on this occasion. The loaf was pretty big - a good foot-and-a-something long and fat, almost like a newborn baby, if a newborn were to be sculpted from bread - so £3 felt a fair price for it. It was a sign of my will power and maturity that I didn't tear into the bread until after I got home (pats on the back for me).
The bread reminded me a lot in flavor and texture to the 24-hour loaf of bread I baked last month, which I loved at the time. I thought it was only appropriate to eat the bread with some of my more posh spreads; pate, homemade rhubarb and apple jam, and nice olive oil. It tasted pretty good with bacon inside it too, and even just on its own, it must be said. I just can't believe it's taken me over a year of working in the area to think of stopping in to St. John for my bread, but it is well, well worth the trip.