To this very day, every time I see any type of top cut bread loaf, be it a nothing more than a decorative cut or an ingredient added cut, I’m reminded of this product.

I so well remember seeing the ad for this “loaf”, flashing on the small Sears made color TV located in a place of honor in the living room. I was immediately taken with the mental flavor of warm butter bread; I swear I could even smell it. I had cravings. But though I hungered for this unique taste, for after a build up like the one I’d just sat through, the fantasy of flavor gnomes were dancing on my tongue. (having only three networks to choose from and no remote control, we of the olden days, tended to just watch our commercials).

I have no memory of how much time passed between first seeing the loaf’s teasing image on the small screen then seeing the object of my lust in the, um, err, plastic bag. Snatching one of these delights from the shelf, I sniffed it like one might do a giant cigar; convinced myself I could smell the butter. Oh, this sack of joy was so going home with me.

Reflecting back on the memories of that day, I imagine myself as, “Ralphie”, from the Christmas Story Movie. Pulling off the plastic tab (the bread bag didn’t have a twistie), and untwerling the plastic end, I did what everyone my age did then, reached two slices past the heel to where the ‘Good’ bread lay. (Hey, don’t judge me … we were weird back then.) Taking one of the soft, fresh and fragrant slices, I took that first long-awaited bite right there in the split butter top.

I have to mention Ralphie once more because I know exactly how he felt when he uttered those immortal words, “Son of a B***H”. Standing there, holding a single slice of bread with a rather large bite in the top, I learned a truth, the butter top thing was a marketing gimmick and I’d fallen for it. Just bread; no dancing flavor gnomes, no fireworks. I don’t think I ever bought another loaf.

A few years later after I’d moved to New Orleans, I finally had my happy bread moment. After a night of spending too much time going from one club to another (disco and the theme clubs stuck around here until the mid 80’s), I was heading home by an odd route (no I don’t remember why) and passed the Sunbeam Bread Bakery. Oh My God, I can still smell it to this day. For what ever reason, I ended up circling around and driving past the bakery for one more really good smell. Driving past, I see a small line of people queuing up at a windowed door. Sunbeam was selling the uncut screw up’s to people in the neighbor hood. That loaf did not survive the trip home; it had been years in the coming but I at last had the dancing favor gnomes. It was everything I’d imagined. It saddened me when they closed that plant and moved out of the city, I was a loyal late night customer until their last day.

Oops, I think I got just a wee bit off track there at the end, but the flavor memory was worth it.