THE FALL OF SLICED BREAD

A flickering fluorescent light. A heart monitor barely registering a pulse.

On the bed lay the patient: pale, soft, crustless. His name on the chart: Panide Moide. But we all knew him for what he really was — sliced bread.

Next to him, on the bedside table, a jar of sourdough starter. Still. Silent. Watching.

The doctors didn’t say much. It wasn’t gluten. It wasn’t sugar. It wasn’t even an overdose of additives.

It was… the end of an era. Sliced bread was dying.

And the ferment knew everything..

The Interrogation

Two days later, the investigation began.

Interview Room 2. Warm light. Thick silence.

Detective Garrido leant over the table, a photo of the crime scene in hand. Across from him: Sourdough Starter # 52.

“We know you were there.”

The starter bubbled quietly. Said nothing. Didn’t deny. Didn’t flee.

The air smelled of flour and unfinished business.

The Cell

Now… Cell 14, East Wing.

A glass jar. Alone.

No oven. No banneton. No one left to rise with.

The sourdough is behind bars. Guilty? Symbolic? Or simply the beginning?

A New Era Begins

At Vubetti, we neither confirm nor deny the allegations.

We simply know that something has shifted.

Sliced bread isn’t what it used to be (literally).

And neither are we.

This is the rise of crust. Of slow fermentation. Of ingredients with names and stories.

We no longer want soft, silent bread with no identity.

We want bubbles. Character. Emotion.

And we want to bake it ourselves.

So yes — the sourdough may be imprisoned in the story…

But in your kitchen, it’s ready to rise again.

⸻

Discover the Vubetti Sourdough Kit

Because good bread was never meant to be silent.