Below is a New York Times article on a test of different breadboxes. The
web link has pictures of the boxes, so the article will make more sense.
That yellow one is something else!
http://www.nytimes.com/2001/04/11/living/11KITC.html
Test Kitchen: Breadboxes, the Best Thing Since Unsliced Bread
By MARIANNE ROHRLICH
BEADBOXES, after all these years, matter again.
As long as bread was mass-produced plastic food in plastic wrap, protected
by an army of multisyllabic preservatives, no one needed to worry about it.
But now that the fresh stuff, the bread with a great crust and moist
interior, is back, the reasons for the breadbox are clear: store one of
those beautiful loaves in a plastic bag and it will turn into a tough hunk
of foam overnight. A breadbox should keep it fresh for up to three days.
To be honest, though, I first wanted a breadbox for a less practical
reason. All of a sudden, there are a lot of great looking ones. Houseware
designers have become enamored of the breadbox, as they have of
old-fashioned toasters and blenders and other artifacts of the 1950's
kitchen. Except this time, they're not content with just retro reproductions.
The smooth capsule made by Alessi, shown above, looks as if it touched down
from outer space. A breadbox by Eva Solo has curved steel sides and an
industrial-looking black plastic flap. Michael Graves's breadbox is a riff
on sturdy 50's design in chrome and ivory plastic. All of them are a vast
improvement over that pile of crumpled paper bags shoved onto the counter.
But I wondered, is choosing a breadbox just a matter of style, or are there
functional considerations, too? After selecting five based on looks alone,
I put them to the test. First, I did a little homework. Just how does a
breadbox work, anyway? Bread, I learned, has to breathe for its crust to
stay crisp, and that is why it suffocates in a plastic bag or in the
refrigerator. But left in a paper bag on the counter, it will dry out in a
day or so.
A breadbox - basically a foot-square container with an opening that's not
airtight - creates a controlled environment somewhere between those
extremes. The moisture from the bread raises the humidity in the box, but
air circulation keeps it from getting as moist as in a sealed plastic bag.
Harold McGee, the author of "On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of
the Kitchen" (Scribner, 1984), explained that the more bread in the box,
the higher the humidity, and hence, the less crisp the crust. A box with
just a little bread will have lower humidity, and maintain crispness better.
"You have to make a choice with bread," he said. "Some like it chewy, some
like it crisp."
With all of that in mind, I set out to test five models: the oval Gnam by
Alessi, the Bread Bin by Eva Solo, the 50's-style box by Michael Graves for
Alessi, a reproduction cannister-style box from Martha Stewart and a
double-decker plastic model from Lillian Vernon. I filled the breadboxes on
a Sunday and, until the following Wednesday, opened them every evening to
test for crispness and moistness. Here is what I learned.
Lesson No. 1: Breadboxes are big. Very big.
I never realized how much equipment I had until I needed more than a foot
of counter space for each breadbox. I filled each one with an assortment of
baked goods: chunks of fresh country loaves, crusty rolls, half a baguette.
I kept some in paper bags, and left others unwrapped.
Lesson No. 2: Breadboxes are not designed for baguettes.
None of the boxes were long enough to store a whole baguette. (Of course,
people who really care about bread will tell you baguettes should be eaten
the day they are baked.)
Lesson No. 3: Most breadboxes are not designed to hold tall breads, either.
Be prepared to cut a big boule in half.
The only one ample enough for plump loaves was the reproduction box by
Martha Stewart ($62 from the Martha by Mail catalog, 800-950-7130 or
www.marthabymail .com). The enameled steel box, in white, beige or green,
has a square canister-style design, with a lid on top, and is taller than
it is wide or long (11 1/2 inches by 8 1/2 inches, and 12 inches high). It
holds a large inventory, though getting at something on the bottom meant
rooting around.
The tightest squeeze was the Gnam ($69 at S. Feldman Housewares, 1304
Madison Avenue, at 92nd Street). The box's beautiful elongated shape was
also its shortcoming, and a relatively small opening didn't help. Still,
the 19-by-12-by-6 1/2-inch container, which comes in bright yellow, purple
and orange, holds medium-size flatter loaves, and rolls and smaller baked
goods.
Lesson No. 4: Throw away the paper bags.
Because of the humidity that builds up, paper gets damp. The unwrapped
breads seemed to stay the freshest; their crusts were still acceptably
crisp three days later. The breads left in paper bags had soggy, chewy crusts.
The Eva Solo box had a different sort of humidity problem: the stylish
floppy flap didn't close tightly, and was so large that when opened it
completely released the moisture. The bread in this box seemed drier after
two days. The flap also required two hands - one to hold it open, the other
to reach in the box - which was inconvenient. The box was almost as ample
as the Martha Stewart model, at 7 inches high by 17 inches long and 10
inches deep ($103 from www.tabletools.com or 888-211-6603).
Lesson No. 5: Don't overfill.
It's tempting to use a breadbox as a storage bin for crackers and stray
baked goods. Since air circulation is so important, you want to be careful
about overcrowding.
For a compact kitchen, the double-decker model from the Lillian Vernon
catalog ($29.98, 800-285-5555) is the best fit. It is the narrowest, at 11
3/8 inches, but its two compartments are relatively high and roomy. It is
12 1/4 inches high by 7 1/2 inches deep. With a white plastic frame and
clear compartments, it is not as attractive as the others, but it is a
space saver. The sliding doors worked well and stayed open by themselves.
The Michael Graves box ($239 at Bergdorf Goodman) did not always open or
close smoothly; its sliding chrome "garage door" went off the track from
time to time. But it held a good quantity, and the inside proportions were
right. The box, in chrome and ivory or dark gray plastic, is 17 3/8 inches
long by 9 1/2 inches deep and 8 inches high.
Lesson No. 6: Looks aren't everything.
The boxes all worked well - up to three days later, I still had acceptably
fresh bread in all of them, except for the Eva Solo. And they all certainly
contained the countertop mess, bags as well as crumbs.
But I have to admit, as striking as the futuristic jelly bean Gnam is - and
it was my favorite, visually - it isn't the one I would buy. I want the
plain-Jane double- decker from Lillian Vernon. It not only filled the bill,
but it also fit my counter.