This diminishing loaf of pumpernickel on my kitchen counter is the first loaf of pumpernickel I’ve ever bought. I’ve always wondered, quietly, somewhere in the vast space of my mind where such wonderings quietly go on, what pumpernickel is, exactly. Some kind of grain? There’s something ugly about the word, but ugly in that faintly attractive way. Know what I mean? So last Saturday when I was at Uprising and saw they were out of challah, I turned to the pumpernickel ingredients list. I don’t remember now what-all was on it, something about white flour and rye flour and, sure, maybe some wheat, but I do remember that there were also dark chocolate and honey. Of course the loaf was snapped up immediately, and it’s been treating me well all week. Anyway, today, finally, in my flurry of procrastination, I look up “pumpernickel,” and, people: this now ranks up there with my favorite breads, because this is its distinguished etymology:

German, from pumpern, to break wind + Nickel, goblin; from its reputed indigestibility

Well, well, well. Anyone for a slice of tootin’ fairy bread?