Why I Love Wonder Bread
by Antenna Wilde
It’s like biting a flour-cloud. Softer than a marshmallow, yet strong enough to hold the turkey in place; leftover Thanksgiving turkey with lettuce, tomato and mayo… a pinch of salt and pepper. Yes, Wonder Bread, that malleable-fluff-bread, complaisant actor in the movie called, Sandwich! Where would we be without it, as a society, a culture, a people?
I remember as a child, my father bringing it home, held soft and safe under his arm like a fragile Christmas package. My mother, however, was aghast. She said it had no fiber, no nutrients, no validity. My father flipped the plastic bundle around, red-white-and-blue, revealing the vitamin-enriched “fact” sheet: Vitamin D, calcium and Riboflavin; Iron, Thiamine and Niacin.
“Hogwash!” she cried, “It’s unnatural!”
Mother was right, it is unnatural, and father was right, it is vitamin enriched, but they’re both wrong. They missed the point, which is that, Wonder Bread is not made to be healthy, or natural, or even delicious. Wonder Bread is made to be a carrier for deliciousness, the altar upon which we lay our sacred fillings and processed deli meats. In essence, it merely amplifies that which you put within it. On its own, Wonder Bread isn’t that great, but add a mere slice of American cheese—or any kind of cheese you like—between two of those fluffy white pillows of Wonder, grill it with butter in a frying pan, well… I’ll be right back!