Well, it turns out Barbari bread is readily available in my neck of the woods. It comes from the Afghan bakery I’d seen on the internet. It’s been available to local Persian stores for about three years now. (I’d given up by then after many years of trying.)
So upon hearing the bread would be delivered to the store the next day, I kept my expectations low. Next day, I picked it up, folded it and put it in my bike’s luggage compartment (similar to the one in the pic above). At one of my destinations, with tea, I gave it a try.
It doesn’t quite have the same appearance. It’s definition isn’t up to the one available in the old country, and it doesn’t have the same color. The crust is softer, the bread chewier and the overall taste a little off. I’d qualify it as a semblance of the real thing. Sort of like how a German citizen feels when he comes to the US, orders a lager beer at the bar and gets a Budweiser–he must feel the same way I felt upon eating this “Barbari” bread.
Still, it did bring back memories and I’ll be buying it again. It represents a simple pleasure–good bread, a nice ride, a good coffee or beer–the things that make a simple man like myself happy. But I can’t help thinking how much better the Barbari bread is for my cousins back in the old country. A simple pleasure they get, to which we settle for mere semblance.
