Hard Bread Story

 I got carried away during dinner last night and had to spend the next thirty-minutes walking around town.

That was when I passed by the back alley of a completely unimpressive shop with its kitchen door wide opened to passers-by. What's interesting wasn't the look of the shop, but the smell that caught my nostrils right from where I was walking by - the opposite side of the road.

It was the smell of flour doughs baking in ovens. The fresh aromas from the types of flours they use in the making of sourdoughs, baguettes, or any of those European 'hard breads'. I salivated. Though I had just cleaned half of a plate of chicken beriyani not thirty minutes earlier, such is the power these tough breads have over me.

So I crossed over to the kitchen door. Peeking and sneaking, if it was unlocked I reckon I would have barged through.. for what exactly, for a loaf of whatever that's baking, pray that they're selling.

It was locked and I turned into prowling mode. I walked and walked picking up pace into different alleys to get to the front side of the shop. Thugs be damned if they ever tried standing in my way or I'll break their neck.

I reached the front of the shop. The heritage door was slightly ajar. I could see the heavy bakery machineries. Just as I was pushing the door leaf on the right, the Adhan call for prayer began out loud from a mosque just 100 metres away. I wasn't about to shout into the shop with my inquiries so I waited for the Adhan to end. In the three minutes it took, I recalled of how I missed home when I was first introduced to these hard breads seventeen years ago. Malaysians aren't used to hard breads and I was a long way from home then. But perhaps from the days and nights sitting by the window watching the snow falls, savouring slices of these breads served in their baskets while waiting for my meals was when I started to love them, these hard breads. I've always loved it when it snows, so much so that it was enough to associate these hard breads to pleasant memories. So much so that it was enough for me to literally prowl this night following its scent from one back alley to another. I just had to have it, something.

Unfortunately I was told that they were not for sale. This place was merely the factory supplying these breads to a restaurant in town. I tried my luck and my charm, would've gotten away with a loaf if there was one that was ready, but every one of them was still baking in the ovens. Thankfully I had those three minutes to calm down earlier. So I had the information of the restaurant wrapped in mind instead and went home. At least that's something.

Thus today, I had some of the sourdough slices for lunch at said restaurant. It was enough. A warm-up to my upcoming new year's celebration trip to a nearby city with its very own 'French Quarter', and as highlighted by a European colleague, is where you can find the best baguettes ever.

Shop: Yin's Sourdough Manufactory @Promenade

Original post: 13th Dec 2022, Facebook.

Thank you for reading.