Bluebird Bakery: Retrospecticus!

Come and give heed, if thou wouldst, to the story of the Noble Four and their journey to the Bluebird Bakery. From the annals of the intarweb, our four heroes did decipher apocryphal lines of the most ancient runes in order to divulge the most closely guarded secret of the Ages... The location of the fabled shores of Bluebird Bakery: 8572 National Boulevard, Culver City, California 90232.

The trek was arduous, hearts (and bellies) were tempted by the more easily-had prizes of the Boston Market. But with steadfast hope in greater riches to come, the Noble Four did surpass the Siren's Call of meatloaf, beef tri-tip, and cornbread rolls. For great are the rewards to those sure of heart and steady of spirit. And great rewards were exactly what the Noble Four did have for their own upon arrival:

While they may look delectable, delicious, and any other d-word you may think of, many are the wandering travelers who have unwittingly fallen prey to the most vicious of all pastry toppings: the walnut. With this knowledge steadfast in their thoughts the Noble Four approached their quarry with great care, despite the more than ample glass shielding that lay betwixt us and the deceptively innocuous beasts that lay neatly arranged within. (Editor's Note: When they say "Do not tap the glass," maaaan you had better not tap the glass! I barely made it out of harm's way, but Ravi lost his left ring finger! Where is a man gonna put a ring now? He's going to die a spinster!)

Their nerves steeled and wits firmly about them, the Noble Four did take their leave of the Cagéd Pastries and march onward to gentler wings of the menagerie. Here we have the holding pen of the docile Cupcake, upon which herds the Bluebird Bakery spared no expense. With an air of showiness, they almost flaunt their skills in pastry husbandry. There was more than a little irony in the herds, in that the numerous breeds were presented with such nonchalance that one knows great care was taken in the breeding and grooming of each particular cupcake in particular. Which is not to say that the individual attention was a waste; they tasted as one might expect the Messiah, our Lord Jesus Christ would taste like, were he to offer Himself up in pastry form to the sinners of the world.

Were they mere peasant-folk, the Noble Four may easily have been bewitched by the achingly beautiful treats before them. But nay, foolish reader. Are not the Noble Four capitalized for a reason? Indeed, our canny heroes' attentions were not long intoxicated by mere desserts. Bluebird Bakery is more than just as such. They also field a vast array of sandwiches, both traditional and pressed. These great brutes are borne of naught but the finest breads (the ranks of olive loaf and rye bread are stacked most impressively in formation at all times) and meats (from Chicken to Pastrami to Tuna Salad-- harvested from the very children of Neptune himself! What opulence!). With fierce determination, great ardor, and (they hoped) the blessings of their respective patron gods, the Noble Four did dive headlong into fierce combat with the many sandwiches of Bluebird Bakery. Behold!


Ravi the Fuzzy-Chops, great chieftan from the Northlands, shows little fear and even less mercy to his Chicken Melt. Its layers of olive loaf are no match for his eager teeth. Lush slices of fresh tomato and melted aged cheddar did ooze from the gaps in his foe's armor. For unremitting domination is the way of his people. Woe unto their enemies.


The Mysterious Erica, hailing from lands beyond even the hazy shores of Bluebird Bakery, ambled forth to face her foe with naught but a flimsy plastic fork and a mischievious grin. Her tiny stature proved a most unfortunate facade to the Tuna Melt before her. Cybernetic enhancements to numerous portions of her skeleton made short work of the sandwich's hearty potato dill bread (delicious, but deadly). Though taciturn in peace, Erica proved every bit as vicious in action, hewing molten cheddar and fresh tomato from her foe every bit as eagerly as Ravi the Fuzzy-Chops.


Shahin the Scholarly, who lived among the Germanic tribes and learned of their implacable ways, did carefully peel back the restraints on his Pastrami Reuben. The crisp autumn air quickly filled with the scent of pastramied beef, grilled rye bread, melted gruyere cheese, sauerkraut, and Russian dressing-- which the Ancient Sages of Bluebird described as a veritable witch's brew of herbs and potions ranging from parsley and peppers to vinegar and chili sauce. Shahin the Scholarly heeded the advisement of the Sages and faced his foe methodically, peeling its layers back piecemeal and layering the provided coleslaw (a light, almost summery concotion which did not have the heaviness of other slaw dressings) in the innards of the sandwich. The pleased chewing of our hero gave witness as to the effectiveness of this sagely tactic.


Thy humble chonicler, Eric the Righteous, did beseech his mighty Lord for the strength and wisdom with which to defeat the Pastrami Reuben that lay before him. With none of the calculated steps that Shahin the Scholarly employed to vanquish his Reuben, Eric the Righteous challenged his own with bites that other men would call unearthly, impossible. But Eric the Righteous did merely smile and give thanks unto his mighty God for embiggening his eternal soul and, more specifically, his gaping jaws. The ways of the Lord are mysterious indeed, but the Holy shall never fall to the Sandwich. Glory and Hallelujah to the Lord Most High, Mighty Defeater of Sandwiches big and small alike!


But what have we here? What treasures lay within this plain brown box, inscribed with but a single simple rune...?

...Such treasures that mighty Empires have been lost over. The Noble Four were given charge of four cupcakes, three paid for in doubloons and pieces-of-eight, one a generous gift from the magnanimous Sages of Bluebird. The breeds of cupcake tamed and eaten by our heroes were, starting clockwise from the top:

Coconut: Pillowy vanilla cake-- flesh whiter than the first snowfall of the frigid Northlands-- is topped with a creamy coconut frosting and sprinkled with slivers of dried (Wait for it...) coconut (BAM!).

Red Velvet: Bred by Buddhist Monks high in the Himalayan Mountains for its signature red cakey flesh, dense and almost (but not quite) chewy, with the vaguest touch of a berry flavor that may well have been hallucinations brought on by the richness of the cream cheese frosting covering the top.

Chocolate: Though not as fancy as the previous breed, any gift from the Sages of Bluebird is not to be confused for some pedestrian snack-cake. Beneath the outer layer of gooey chocolate frosting beats a pure brown heart of darkness so chocolatey that it is rumored one can transcend time itself with such rich chocolate cake on his tongue. The Mysterious Erica was not one to divulge whatever transcendental wisdom she gained from communion with the Chocolate Cupcake.

(Another) Red Velvet: The Geminaic counterpart to the previous Red Velvet specimen.

Such were the immortal delights of the Cupcake that our ordinarily stern heroes were given to flights of fanciful tomfoolery. Ever dedicated to the art of the scrivener, thy humble chonicler did capture the sSexy cupcake wrapper footage that ensued! Ooh la la! (Editor's Note: Video footage encoded in XviD, in case you need to chase down the proper codec. Hint-- Google XviD, click the second link, and install.)

Though the roads were long and fraught with danger, the Noble Four did feast their eyes, noses, and bellies upon the fabled delights of The Bluebird Bakery. Ravi the Fuzzy-Chops was noted to have given the Bluebird Bakery an unprecedented five thumbs up!:

(Editor's Note: Though I did meekly attempt to advise the mighty Fuzzy-Chops that but one of the appendages on his mighty paw were thumbs, thereby making his five-thumbs-up laudation somewhat of a misnomer, I was hardly able to eke the words from my humble mouth before the Fuzzy-Chops reached for his impressively heavy war-club with full intent to dash thy humble chronicler's brains out upon the walls. Again I declare: woe unto the enemies of thy people, O Ravi Fuzzy-Chops. Woe and terror.

And these things I say unto you in this year of our Lord Two-Thousand and Five are truth, O faceless populous of the intarweb!

Ever thy humble servant,
Eric the Righteous