I love bread.
I grew up on bread. At times I would eat nothing but bread with butter and honey as a kid. A bowl of soup would have torn chunks of bread thrown into it. There is nothing on the planet quite like the smell of fresh baked artisan bread coming out of the oven.
Though not an everyday thing anymore, and certainly of the non-wheat variety, a lightly toasted slice with marmalade, honey, or almond butter is a small pleasure I still cherish.
Also, bread must have a crust -non of that mellow soft bread for me, no thank you. The crust is a sacred element of breaking (or slicing) bread and enjoying the simpler living connection of its history.