Hugging the end of every bread loaf is an unsung hero. Colloquially dismissed as "the heel" or more harshly as "the butt," the bread end protects the soft interior with a flavor rich crust.
As a child, I was surrounded by crust celebrators. Each night, my family huddled around the kitchen table, hoping to claim the prized crusty end. As time passed, it became clear that my beloved bread ends are considered no more than a means to an end by others. Left untouched in bread bags to guard the loaf against staleness, my cherished ends meet inglorious fates—crumbled into casseroles, tossed to ducks at the pond, or tragically thrown away.
What most see as discardable, I see as a quiet luxury. Kissed by the Maillard reaction, the ends transform into something darker, richer, and more complex. Each slice offers a sturdy canvas for spreads and toppings where a classic slice might buckle under a single egg. With only two per loaf, they invite small negotiations between those who know their worth. Today, I might indulge; tomorrow, the end is yours. A simple ritual.
Someday, I hope the world recognizes the beauty of the bread end. But until then, I will celebrate when my friends leave these perfect pieces for me.