jfb

Okay, I don't read a lot of restaurant reviews, but I think I might if more of them started like this:

The day was gray. The kind of gray that reminds you of nothing so much as the plank of lint you get when you stuff the dryer with muddy sheep. That, or the grave. Icy blocks clung to every wheel well, cruelly, unavoidably, like publicists sucked onto the side of Paris Hilton, and just as depressing for general aerodynamics. In my car, folks on the radio yammered on about blind women with lower incidences of breast cancer, probably because they're not poisoned through the eyes by lethal lamplight. The evening's lead headline was written: "Gouge Out Your Eyes Now, Doctors Advise."

Also if more of them were, eventually, about bread.