When I lived briefly in Spain, my small village had a bread truck that would tootle around peddling fresh-baked finery at dirt cheap prices. You could get small round or oblong loaves for as little as 35 pesetas. When my friend and I heard the bread truck song, we would scramble for change and rush down the stairs like kids to an ice cream truck, frantic not to miss the jostle of acquiring fresh baked bread, jockeying for position amongst the neighborhood abuelas picking out their daily ration. The market sold bread too, sometimes even proclaiming HAY PAN CALIENTE, but the bread truck bread always tasted better.
Now I live in Japan, and while the bread isn’t very good and there is nary a bread nor ice cream truck to be seen, there is a tofu truck that putters through my neighborhood once or twice a week, hocking freshly made ‘fu in a variety of styles. Whenever I manage to make it into the street, coins in hand, I still thrill a little at the experience of getting my food from a specialty vendor come right to my door. He always throws in a little bonus of a few pieces of age-dofu (deep-fried tofu), and they always tastes better than the ones from the supermarket.
Selena Hoy loves carbs.