Panera Bread

How you let me down.

Oh, I've been before-- which is what makes this post so hard to write. Panera, how I loved you. And how you've hurt me so.

Eric was hungry. Kathy, Colin, Eric and I were driving down Wilshire trying to decide what to do. I suggested Panera and everyone else agreed (they were all first-timers).

We got to Panera. I went to the menu (I had already eaten, but there's always room in my tumbly for a baked good).

Kathy asked, "Ravi, are you going to order something?"
I answered, never one for word variation, "Yeah, probably a muffin or something."
"But what about the grade?"
OH GOD.
I glanced up and there it was. Panera got a B! Panera, a chain restaurant that can afford to pay for reinspections, settled for the B!
But you know what, I ordered anyway (more about that on my personal blog).

As I made my way to the line to order, there was a vision usually reserved for my nightmares: a basket of bread, in which they had placed several loaves, and from which sampling patrons would have to tear a piece of the bread off, and (if they so chose) dip it in olive oil.

EWWWWWWW.

This picture is far too large:




-->Ravi