My Psychotic Lobster Claw

I have never set foot in Breadtop, as I just knew that I will like it far too much. It is just my kind of cake shop. So me! So, sooooo me. So, I have, thus far, judiciously avoided the place altogether. All of those cake, bread creations in the window to salivate by. Mmm, Mmm! Wondrous creations to get the gastric juices churning by.

Sam and I were wandering down Bourke Street towards work. We hadn’t had breakfast, as he is a “have breakfast at work” type.

“Let’s head in here.” He motioned his handsome face towards the bakery. "And get something."

“What? In here?” I swallowed hard. The as yet denied to me nirvana. Would life ever be the same?

“Yes, we can get a couple of buns for breakfast.”

"Oh, um, okay." Swallow hard again. "If you think so." Swoon.

He slipped through the door, just like that, not noticing my reticence, leaving me, momentarily, giddy with anticipation on the footpath.

You know, I have never seen a pig in, actual, shit, but I’m pretty sure I now have some idea what they must feel like.

Red bean curd, pineapple bun, custard bun, coconut crunch, OH MY! My head spun, my tongs were operating at a level more akin to a psychotic lobster claw.

Even just the smell, it had a certain reverence that would rival the greatest of cathedrals. Inhale deep! And again!

Amazingly, those sausages in buns are not faux and are not even sweet. They are, in fact, savoury. Euw! Well, I don't think I'll be having any of them, any time soon, but it's interesting none the less.