Cloud Bread

 

Cloud Bread in the town of Looe

If man could live by bread alone (and I know he can't), I would vote for Cloud Bread. It's adorable and divine. Your mouths should be watering right now. We had some last year at the Sardine Factory in Looe and after my first taste of the stuff, nothing else mattered. What was Hake, or Scallops, or Hamburgers when you've had bread from a Cloud?

We were working out what to order when I saw a serving dish go by. My eyes followed it. It seemed to float above the serving dish.

"What is that?" I asked the blond waitress.

"That is called Cloud Bread. Would you like some?"

And of course I did, and of course I ordered it along with the hamburger choice. Everyone else ordered breathtakingly tasty entries worthy of the famous chef who was on a competitive TV show with other chefs, and won. But I considered the bread my entre, with the burger coming in second.

Because of this new taste of bread at the Sardine Factory (although I don't think sardines were anywhere on the menu), and the desire to keep eating it, I told friend Rosie and Our Em that it would be amazing if we could go back there sometime. So Rosie drove us all that long distance again. And once more, I came face to face with the Bread on a Cloud that is better than any other food. Really, dear Readers. It was sort of like, well, like the Manna in the wilderness the children of Israel used to eat. And grew weary of. If I had only Cloud Bread to eat, maybe I would get tired of it too like they did, spending my time kicking against Moses, and God, and Manna.

But it is late now, and there is no time to solve the food problems of the children of Israel. 

Tomorrow my friends will climb aboard their train and their car, and leave us behind. We are almost exhausted from all the fun things we did/ate. (And did I tell you yet that we went WILD SWIMMING every day but one?). People commented a lot about how brave - or mad - we must be, jumping into the ocean and freezing ourselves nearly to death. But it isn't madness that makes us do these things. It's the joy of being alive right now. 

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

Polperro, Cornwall