You know how those old prison movies talk about a diet of bread and water? Sometimes I think that’s not such a bad idea. Okay, maybe if they switched the water with wine, as in "a loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou."

I haven’t always been a bread fan (nope, not even when they recorded “Baby I’m-a Want You,” I mean, what kind of grammar was that?) and I have never personally baked bread. But we have some seriously good bread in this city.

Randy Evans’ pull-a-part yeasty rolls at Haven sometimes evilly ruin my appetite for his wonderful meals. Like potato chips, you can’t eat just one.

And, of course, there’s chef Scott Tycer’s Krafts’men Baking Company that supplies many local restaurants with some fine slices. Many are the times I’ve purposely shown up before the Montrose-Freed Library was open just to sneak next door to the Krafts’men retail store for some warm sourdough toast and butter.

And speaking of sourdough, chef/partner James Cole of Fleming’s Prime Steakhouse & Wine Bar in River Oaks has not only made me take most of my filet mignon home in a doggie bag after eating way too much bread, but he also once gave my friend some of his starter dough. Said friend did actually bake bread for a while, with some success. But we both now have a new bread fix, which I can say that my waistline is not really in agreement with my taste buds about.

You see, I have my own personal baker now.

I’ve been going to Urban Harvest Farmers Market on Eastside for years, and almost from the beginning I started buying cheddar jalapeño loafs from Richard Cole. Rain or shine, he’s shown up at the market every Saturday with his tables laden with olive loafs and coconut pies and his wonderful, thick loaves of bread.

Richard is a manager at a Galleria-area restaurant, and does baking on the side. And his loaves are not always perfect, but that’s another thing I love about them. You never know how many peppers will peek out of the slice you cut, or if the loaf will be tall and fluffy or maybe a tad compacted. It’s like you made it yourself. Which, obviously, I don’t, but I can pass it off as homemade bread, easily.

Over the years, Richard has learned that I—and the afore-mentioned friend—love jalapeños. We went through a period where the peppers were too abundant, but now that’s settled down some. And the really delightful thing is I now get my own special loaf every Saturday. He bakes it just the way I like it — just enough peppers and cheese — and then marks the loaf with a slice of jalapeño on top, so he knows it’s mine!

Doesn’t matter when I show up, he keeps my special loaf in his truck and when I stroll by, he runs to get it.

No, I have no need to bake my own bread. I have my own personal baker. And these fresh, fragrant loaves make wonderful sandwiches, lovely bruschetta drizzled with olive oil and grated Parmesan and ground black pepper and, as I’ve recently discovered, great croutons for Caesar salads.

So here’s to homemade bread, as long as it’s made in someone else’s home.