Bread to the sandwich is what the first scene is to a movie. If the first minutes of a movie find you trimming your toenails, you probably won't appreciate the rest. Likewise, if a sandwich comes stuffed between two slices of government subsidized carbohydrate foam, you'll probably hope that a friendly bear steals your picnic.
The bread that encased my Po'Boy at Emeril's Table Ten in Las Vegas was so good that I may not have noticed if they forgot the filling.
The bread's texture was perfect: a light crunchy crust with a featherly light interior. Good gracious. I'm going back.
P.S.: The fries only look gigantic because I used a crazy wide angle fisheye lens to take this photo.