When I first came over as a wide-eyed Scandi back in the day, I found it impossible to eat the square sponges that the Brits would layer with jam, fish paste and cucumbers, then cut into tiny triangles to make it posher. Now, after raising children here, my standards have dropped due to parental exhaustion, and I will consume things I used to consider horrible.

Someone told me that food like cheese and bread in the UK is square because it was easier to pack when feeding the army during the Second World War. I have no idea whether this is true, but it offers a decent excuse.

These days, a lot of supermarkets offer bread baked on the premises, but that bread is still heavily processed. If you are lucky enough to live near a bakery, it is likely to be one of two types: one that only bakes white bread or one that bakes sourdough and charges half your lifetime savings for it. Sure, I can bake some bread myself. But again, due to the fact that I have a job, children and a million other things to do, it happens rarely.

When my mum visits, she brings fresh yeast from Swedish supermarkets, because she cannot comprehend why anyone would bake with dry yeast. I never saw dry yeast growing up, but now it is all I can find if I do bake. I know I sound like a snob, an annoying middle-class Scandi snob. But it comes from a deep love of bread. I want to buy a fresh whole meal bun and a rye loaf locally. But I can’t. So, I eat the square sponges and cry into my tea, which is superior in all ways.

Gabi Froden

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