The natives aren't quite restless enough. Cakes are off the menu but sourdough runs wild and free across supermarket bakery shelves. As ever I'm confused by the pricing, most of which seems unreasonable but as I'm of a certain age that's bound to be the case. Any purchase these days is tinged with a mixture of misunderstanding and a strong sense of exploitation. Who came up with these prices? Most of which appear to be unfair and difficult to understand. Some loaves come in at around £1.70, other tally up to £4.00 a pop. As you'd expect the £4.00 ones do seem a lot bigger and longer lasting - but what is the best choice? Where lies that elusive sweet spot of purchasing? How easily does it turn to toast? Budgets and appetites are being tested.
Man, as I am led to believe, cannot live by bread alone; jam, peanut butter and actual butter are usually required, also some Nutella and the occasional topping of squished sardines with added mayo. It's the price tag that's the problem as well as the uncertainty of what makes good bread good and bad bread bad. Don't use the word "artisan" in front of the word baker either. That's strictly taboo around here.
I suspect that all bread is baked in an earthly form of Hell; hot ovens, sweaty brows and background squeals of pain and the cracking of whips. There is no daylight, just the perpetual glow of the ovens, the searing heat when the doors are opened, the great vats of grey sourdough on conveyor belts, close to being alive and on the verge of self awareness. Hot metal loaf tins and cruel slicing machines that hearken back to the days of the French Revolution or the dungeons of Mordor. Then gone suddenly into the back of a large articulated lorry and shipped out to the markets where the masses chatter and barter for their food, if they're lucky. For me it's the Co-op or Tesco. I'm not really into exploring too far and wide for foodstuffs. It's the thrill of the chase but on a very small scale.
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