I have a small complaint about Werner’s Magenbrot, which is awkward because there is nothing wrong with it. These small pieces of spiced gingerbread are soft, slightly moist and beautifully glazed, with the sort of flavour that makes taking another piece seem less like a decision than the natural continuation of the first. I would simply prefer to have more difficulty obtaining them.
In my childhood, Magenbrot belonged to the fairground: the stalls, the lights, the smell of roasted almonds and several competing sources of music, none of which had agreed to be in the background. As far as my small world was concerned, that was the only place to buy it. A bag taken home carried some of the outing with it, and the last few pieces mattered because replacing them meant waiting for another fair.
These days I can buy Werner’s at the Coop supermarket, somewhere between remembering the milk and wondering whether there is enough coffee at home. A childhood highlight has become an optional addition to the groceries. This is convenient, sensible and, from almost every practical point of view, an improvement. I find it mildly depressing.
I cannot even claim that it tasted better in the old days. Perhaps it did. Perhaps I was simply shorter and more easily impressed by flashing lights. But I suspect the flavour simply took credit for everything around it. The anticipation, the outing and the feeling that today was different were never on the ingredients list, and no supermarket can stock them.
Of course, I could walk past the shelf and wait for a fair. This is perfectly sound advice, with the slight disadvantage that I would have to follow it. Choosing not to buy something also feels different from waiting for it to return. I miss the anticipation arriving naturally, without having to organise it myself.
My childhood self would have found this complaint baffling. The prospect of buying Magenbrot on an ordinary Tuesday would have struck him as an excellent reason to grow up. Now that I can, I find myself missing the wait.
I shall probably buy another packet and enjoy it thoroughly. Werner’s cannot reasonably be expected to supply a fairground and an afternoon of childhood with every purchase. Still, I used to wish the bag would never run out. I had not realised that was part of the pleasure.
As always, just my five cents.
//Alex
