I have a problem…
I’ve just returned home from a lovely four or five days in Dumfries and Galloway. Yesterday, I frequented a little bakery that the wife and I found.
I love a vanilla slice (my favourite) and on entry, my eyes were drawn to a vanilla slice that literally took me back to my childhood…crisp pastry, thick icing and lots and lots of filling…I just had to get one…they just don’t seem to make them like they used to around these parts, nor in Colne where I’d have gone as a child/teenager.
Anyway, getting to my point…
I asked the lovely Scottish ladies if I could have one of the vanilla slices, to which I was told ‘I’ll just go and see if we’ve got some in the back…”
I then questioned what was wrong with the three remaining ones behind the glass counter, to which I received the response, in a wonderful local accent (think David Tennant) ‘they’re not vanilla, they’re custard!’
Well this set my mind racing, but I duly went for said ‘custard’ slice only to find that it was just like I had as child. Still, this left me confused…
So today, on the way home, we decided to frequent the bakery again. Same setup, same ladies, but this time, I stayed in the car… exactly the same response…that they’d have to get some from out the back.
Sooooo
Are my favourite pastries in fact, custard slices rather than vanilla slices?
If so, what are vanilla slices?
Or are the ladies behind the counter on an enormous wind-up?
Photo for proof…
Ps. I’m sure Rowls will approve of such a culinary predicament!
Pps…before anyone makes a gripe about diet, heart attacks, diabetes etc, I run about 30-50km a week so I allow myself the occasional holiday treat