43. "I Never Thought I'd Eat a Whole One..."
"...I never thought I'd polish off an entire loaf."
Coming back to my senses, I realize the milk bread has vanished completely. Did someone snatch it away and eat it? Where the hell did it all go? As I'm pondering this, a sudden sense of fullness washes over me. Of course. It was all right here inside me.
Normally, I eat three to five slices per meal. Plain milk bread fills you up just fine at that amount. But delicious bread—freshly baked bread—is different. Even after eating two or three times more than usual...
No, wait— come to think of it, I'd already scarfed down that croquette bun before the milk bread. And yet my stomach still has room. Is it the dopamine rush from all the tasty food? Or is my body just being generous, saying go ahead, eat more?
Either way, I don't want to waste this momentum right now. So maybe I should try another bread...
"Ah. This should be just right to eat now."
Sausage bread—or pizza bread, as it's sometimes called. Round dough balls wrapped around sausages, clustered together like grapes. The toppings on top: bacon, corn, onions, green peppers, peas... quite the variety.
It's cooled to a perfect lukewarm temperature. You might think pizza bread demands to be eaten piping hot since it has "pizza" in the name, but I believe lukewarm is the absolute best. The cheese has settled into that ideal chewiness between soft and firm, and the sausages firm up just enough for a satisfying bounce.
The bread itself feels a bit mushy when scorching hot, but as it cools slightly, you get that subtle texture between pizza crust and dough. If it cools too much, the juices from the sausages seep into the bread, turning it into a soggy, fluffy mess. So really, this is a dish that's even better slightly cooled.
Perfect timing, then. I can eat it at its prime.
Taking a big bite, my front teeth crunch through generous strips of green peppers and onions. There's so much of them that I even pick up a faint metallic tang. The toppings are piled so thick it's a strain on my teeth. Sure, the veggies are a bit chewy... but personally, for pizza bread at this temperature, this amount of green peppers and onions is spot-on.
If it cools further, moisture from the vegetables seeps into the bread—but not yet. This odd juiciness and freshness is the true essence of the veggies on pizza bread.
"I used to hate this texture as a kid."
On fully cooled pizza bread, the veggies turn tough and flavorless. Of course, when it's good, it's really good—but reheating it never quite matches fresh-out-of-the-oven perfection. Kids already dislike the bitterness and chew of vegetables, so that texture was a nightmare.
Still, pizza bread has this devilish charm that makes you eat them anyway. Amid the burst of sausages, corn, and occasional peas, the green peppers and onions add their own crisp appeal.
In a way, this pizza bread might be what first taught me the appeal of vegetables.
"...Still not enough."
Appetizer: croquette bun. Main: milk bread. Dessert: pizza bread. A full course enjoyed with just three breads. But it's still not enough. Why? Obviously—no actual dessert.
"Cream bun or red bean bun?"
Cream bun or red bean bun. Both make fine desserts. My dad always said, "Bread without anko... I mean, red bean paste... isn't real bread!" He'd grumble at bakeries, wondering why they bothered with all these fancy breads when they could just sell red bean buns.
I liked them as a kid too, but Dad loved them so much I rarely got a chance. If I snuck one, he'd sulk for three days straight, I bet.
With those memories in mind, I pick the red bean bun. Freshly steamed, it has a slight steamed bun vibe. The smooth red bean paste melts in your mouth like butter, with occasional bean grains adding pops of flavor that fill your senses.
Delicious. But somehow...
"...Am I just getting old?"
As a kid, I'd daydream about piling up all my favorite sweets and devouring them. Now I have the money and time to make those dreams reality, but my body's a wreck. Too much sugar and my stomach churns, blood sugar spikes, neck stiffens.
Red bean buns go down easier than most desserts, though. Two are fine. Three or more... depends, but maybe possible. On the flip side, sometimes I crave sweets so bad it hits like a crash—dizzy, weak. Those times, red bean buns are perfect. They slide down smoother than anything.
"It's a flavor that brings back more than just taste..."
Maybe picking it for nostalgia stirred up too many thoughts. In one sense, it's a success; in another, a failure. Regrettable. Too regrettable to end on this bittersweet note...
"...All that's left is the cream bun."
Cream bun... Honestly, I have no good memories of cream buns. As a kid, the filling always tasted off to me. Like fruit cream cake, not my favorite. Even now, I rarely choose them. But today, for some reason, it's calling to me. Bewitched by the aroma of fresh-baked bread?
"If they bake bread this good, their cream buns must be tasty too."
Not that I hate it—I'm just not drawn to it. But with just one left, might as well finish it off.
"...Ho ho?"
The thought hits with the first bite. So smooth. Not thick and cloying cream, but the kind that truly melts on your tongue. Nutty and velvety, not greasy or off-putting. Completely different. Nothing like the cream buns in my memory.
And this bread? Delicious. Well, all their breads are, but this one stands out. Thinking about it, the bread itself is different too. The others have a hearty heft: croquette bun fried and baked, milk bread for meals, red bean bun thin but chewy...
But this cream bun? It melts away with the cream in a silky dissolve. Thicker than the red bean bun, yet lighter and softer. A "melting" texture that pairs perfectly with fresh cream.
Insane. The perfect final bite for dessert. Some cream buns are tongue-numbingly sweet; this isn't overly so. No—it's sweet, but the softness, fluffiness, and lightness hit first. The sweetness lurks beyond.
Compared side-by-side, the sugar level might be similar. But this has layers beyond just sweet—complex notes. I grabbed it unconsciously. At first, I thought it a mistake, but my real mistake was underestimating it.
If I'd tasted a cream bun like this as a kid, I might've lived on them daily—addicted or haunted by the craving.
...Maybe it's good I had the bad ones back then. Kept my diet balanced.
Lost in such idle thoughts, I finish the cream bun. I pull out a handkerchief and wipe my mouth. Oof. As expected—white cream smeared on my lips and beard. Too soft; one big bite and it goes everywhere. Probably because I'm not used to cream buns.
"Thanks for the meal."
With the dessert cream bun as finale, my little solo bread full course is complete. I down the last of the milk tea, and finally, my stomach signals satisfaction... by hurting.
"Oh no."
I didn't expect the fullness to crash in all at once. I was so lost in the flavors I ignored my limit. All that sweet, delicious bread must've fogged my head.
I hurriedly clear the remnants, dash into a nearby building, and emerge moments later feeling refreshed. Stomach ache, but no disaster—thank goodness.
"Now that it's empty, I'm hungry again..."
Thinking it over, I'd eaten even the bread meant for home. Nothing left for later...
"...No helping it. Hm."
Yeah, no helping it. Guess I'll swing back and grab more breads. Chances to eat bread this good don't come often. Breads are generally solid across the board, making truly special ones rare.
Back at the bakery, the trays are empty. ...Makes sense. Bread this good? Of course it's popular. I just got lucky earlier.
"Looks like I need to wrap up the meeting as fast as possible..."
Next batch at 4 p.m. Rush the meeting and I might make it just in time. Can't sabotage work for personal indulgence, but today's just a quick confirmation—should be fine.
"Bread still on my mind even after eating so much..."
Anyone who's tasted fresh-baked bread knows: you don't escape that curse easily. This one might linger for a while.