Munchies Part Deux: Malt Loaf

Recently, during a rare foray into the supermarket, I decided that as well as the obligatory fags and booze, I needed - or rather Lovely Girlfriend and I needed - some kind of filling yet easy to eat and sweet foodstuff for later in the evening.

So I bought a malt loaf.

All evening I looked forward to the malt loaf. Although I was busy making every effort to destroy brain cells, I could not wipe out the desire. I yearned for it. Every inch of my body was tantalised, taut, on edge, waiting for the...

Sorry, I must apologise, I got a little carried away and forgot I was writing a blog rather than Fiesta's Reader's Stories page. On with the crucial bit.

The malt loaf was presliced.

Presliced. Already sliced, sliced in the packet, sliced and ready to apply butter to, with no slicing required.

"A benefit", you may say.

No. Preslicing causes the crusts to dry out and the edges of the sliced section to dry out. Dry so no amount of butter will revive it. I'd like to say I was disappointed, and indeed I was, but more, I was upset that the familiar gooey, sticky, sweet, but nonetheless filling, and in theory at least not too unhealthy, snack was not how it should be.

But its not just the dryness. It's the thickness too. EVERYBODY knows that the crusty bits at the end should be cut thickly (then piled high with butter, of course). While the rest of the slices should be cut at random thicknesses so there is variety. In the presliced version, each slice is cut the same, no doubt to micrometer precision. Dull, predictable and PLAIN WRONG.

Tonight we have eaten proper, normal malt loaf. Lovely Girlfriend has sliced it up herself. Into totally random thicknesses. Each slice is moist and feels fantastic to bite into, each mouthful a delight.

All of which is good. But doesn't help Lovely Girlfriend remember the name of those chocolate button type things in packets of Revels but which weren't chocolate buttons. Or Minstrels.