The food is a revelation—is this the resto to break the curse of Addition Hills?
This is the kind of week people think food writers have, but that actually most food writers wish they had on a more regular basis.
This is the kind of week people think food writers have, but that actually most food writers wish they had on a more regular basis.
The afternoon air is heavy with the distinctively sweet scent of bread. In a basket on a table is a dizzying array of breads, enough to feed a Filipino family for a week. The baked goods come in all shapes and sizes. There is a giant conjoined pair of monay, huge as a person’s buttocks. There are breads in the shape of a lechon and the form of a crab. Scattered around are pieces of egg pan de sal, little golden drops of cooked dough. Visible in the pile are the bonnet-shaped goodies called, of course, pan de bonete. There are examples of the dense pan de sal de suelo, among others. Placed together, they threaten to overwhelm the senses: How can there be so many kinds of bread in one place at one time?
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