The first time I had fette biscottate, I threw one in my mouth plain. I coughed. I choked. It did not taste like food. It tasted like one of those cheap, brown paper napkins from a fast-food restaurant. If you’ve never encountered this Italian pantry staple, imagine a beautiful, fluffy piece of white bread, flattened a bit, and then toasted, toasted, and toasted again on the lowest toaster setting — I’m talking like a two — until it’s basically obliterated.

The end result is hard as a rock but somehow not burnt, not even well done. It’s just, dry. Despite the fact that they are fundamentally just dry slices of actual wheat bread, fette biscottate have a lot more in common with cardboard. They’re so flavorless even my carb-obsessed 5-year-old will take one bite and spit it on the ground.