Bread is not a course, so please stop serving it as one.
Bread is a side dish, no matter what you do to it.
A man of my build and gastric fortitude has no issue with consuming vast, worrying quantities of bread in just about every shape and form.
Tart it up with butter—a glorious, life-shortening carpeting of the unctuous, ultra-creamy, saturated fat-fortified, salted (preferably) good stuff or an olive oil, with generous pool of balsamic or pomegranate molasses… no actually, I insist on butter slathered to a hideous mattress-level thickness while I sit at a quiet table where—alone, undisturbed, freed from the tyrannical judgement of others—I can unhinge my jaw and devour it in such hasty, ghastly fashion that nearby mothers would avert their children’s eyes from the unapologetic perversion unfolding so publicly, as I slowly slump my shoulders into the back of the chair, close my eyes with satisfaction, clench my fist and chew, slowly savouring.
Some of you may have noticed your toes tightly curling as you read, and that’s because *whispering* you too know the near carnal joy that flour, yeast, water and a strong set of hands can bring.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is bread. Not the callous, factory-extruded loaf shuffled into plastic bags and stacked like bricks in the supermarket.
No, I mean real bread. The good stuff.
At degustations however, no matter how delirious the carbtastic climax, bread should never—repeat, never—be a course. I see this mistake repeated across tasting menus far too often. This nonsense must stop.
Let’s be clear: bread, as a course, is filler: filler for margins, filler for stomachs. Serving bread as a course single handedly reduces a tasting menu’s overall value proposition. It feels like a cheat. A con.
No one signs up to a wine tasting for the olives. No one buys a lap dance for the chair. No one came for the bread course.
I groan whenever a server sidles up to tell me which prep school their sourdough starter attended. I am sure you spend a worrying amount of time nurturing “Polly the Starter” from natural yeasts loitering in the atmosphere, but I did not make the reservation, get dressed up, confirm my booking earlier that day and put a dent in my savings to be presented with filler four courses deep. Artisanal, skilled filler, but filler still.
A la carte, a bountiful bread basket is a swooning act of generosity, but that’s its role. It’s the Best Supporting Actor. The trimmings to the roast. It’s Kelly Rowland to Beyoncé, but it is not Beyoncé.
Offer me a roll at the beginning. Furnish the necessary accoutrement fare la scarpetta, but stop sending us bread as a course during degustations.
Some breads that I’ve known and loved
Some bread courses, shortlisted here, valiantly so I got to rattle my convictions. These honourable mentions are for those who do not share my bread course prejudice.
Cura, Lisbon. I wrote about Cura’s spelt bread course, “An ancestral bread arrives at the seventh course like a guest apologising for being late. Sure I like the aged, cheesy, umami funk of Cura’s butter. Yes, I would spend a lifetime dredging spelt bread through slick pools of delicious Portuguese olive. Seriously though, where were you about six courses ago? An entire bread course feels like filler. I could do without filler just before the mains.”
FZN Restaurant, Dubai. I wrote about FZN’s monkey bread, “The most intrepid moment came in a ramekin of mushroom-based XO sauce which I slathered remorselessly over a bread, so soft, that geese will trade in their feathers for its downy feel.”
Hiša Franko, Slovenia. So dedicated is the team at Hiša that they brought their starter with them during a collab with Trèsind Studio in 2021. I admired their dedication during COVID to bring their restaurant starter.
ROW on 45, Dubai. I wrote about ROW’s Brioche course, “The Brioche, with more laminated rings than a 100-year-old tree, is lacquered in a dark glaze of Hatta Mountain honey and date vinegar. It cracks apart to reveal a pillow-soft carb centre to which you slather with roasted chicken fat butter and piped cep jam – so lardaceously luxurious – you could rub it under your eyes twice daily to reduce fine lines and wrinkles.”
My favourite a la carte bread…
Lowe, Dubai. Lowe’s scorched, wood-fired sesame flatbread deserves to be ordered as a course or meal. It’s the one dish I always order—and will always order—whenever I come. I encourage you to order the aubergine seaweed zaatar dip as a matter of life and death.
Liam is a restaurant critic, food and travel writer based in the Middle East. He owns EatGoSee and contributes to other publications. You can find Liam on Substack, Threads, Instagram, BlueSky or Facebook.
I both agree and disagree. I wouldn’t typically order a bread course à la carte. But there are bread courses within tasting menus that, in my view, have a strong enough “message” to stand on their own - and in those cases, I never felt shortchanged.
And of course, I always make sure to save some for mopping up the sauces later on…
How much topping would a piece of bread need to not be considered a bread course?