Oh, when times were flush and you were loaded, you ate brioche, the millionaire’s bread. Fifty percent butter by weight, you ate it fresh, smearing rich fingerprints all over your coffee mug. What of the leftovers? "Bah!" you said, throwing them out. "I’m made of dough! I don’t eat stale bread!" But then the economy turned to mush and now you’re thinking that maybe tossing food isn't such a super idea anymore.


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