Croutons have a special place in my heart. My father used to make lots of them, all the time. He used white and black bread and various seasonings and it always smelled crouton-ish in our kitchen. I surely remember the smell and the wonderful taste. But I never really make my own croutons and every time the bread in my house goes bad (usually it is the unfortunate white bread that rarely visits my kitchen), I am almost in tears, as it is barbaric and unethical to throw out bread (even if it is white). Ever! And, it happens so, that my healthy husband cannot live without bread. Ever!