Snack Hunting (Not Snark Hunting)

The problem with Twitter (other than the creeping realisation that you're not as witty as you thought you were, let alone as witty as everybody else), is that it makes you hungry. At least, it does if, like me, you follow all sorts of food bloggers.

At inopportune moments of time, you can be beset with a burning need for something obscure and unattainable to eat, and the immediacy of Twitter somehow gives it a stronger pull that than the regular food blogs. Ages ago, at an unpleasantly late hour of the night to be studying (although any hour is either unpleasantly late or unpleasantly early to be studying), Helen from Grab Your Fork was sharing her evening snack of malt loaf... unfortunately, not literally! And it wasn't just any malt loaf. It was Soreen*. And it was sliced! Previously only encountered verging on stale, and very much unsliced, I was keen to go on the hunt. Strathfield not being in the direction os the usual stomping ground while in the recent mad skittering mode, I quickly got in the habit of popping into all and sundry other Woollies passed by, to check if they could satisfy the craving... Bondi Junction? Nope**. City? Nope. Yes, while the website says all Woolworths, beware. Otherwise there will be fruitless (and maltless) hunting...

And then... Good morning Neutral Bay... And hello malt loaf.

Waiting results in... overindulgence...

Pictures: me

Not just for evening snacks - it's also handy for breakfast, and little occasional morsels... especially now it doesn't have to be rationed out anymore! And it's actually pretty healthy, too.

It's great all by itself, but doesn't hurt to add butter. Or - I have to see if this is as tasty as it sounds - marmalade... Even better, it could be the source of the next pud.

* Malt loaf is one of those fondly remembered food from childhood. For a very brief time, we lived in a house with a walk-in larder, and it seemed to always be full of all sorts of interesting things we never got to have (I suspect the brevity of living there meant we were keen to eat English food while it was there to be eaten). And the larder always had a wonderful smell, a bit of which was that rich fruity malt loaf aroma... yum...