A Sydney man staring idly at the pricey wares on offer in an Eastern Suburbs artisanal bakery is currently wishing that he was wealthy enough to afford to eat like a subsistence farmer from the Renaissance.
“You must have had to have made a fortune in the tulip craze to find room in your budget for a boulot sourdough loaf and a raisin snail,” mused Gymea electrician Phil Walker as he tossed up whether to enter the establishment to pick up a few things for dinner. “I’m guessing it must cost a shitload to put an unnecessary dusting of flour on everything and display them all in small wicker baskets.”
“I never knew that grim faced serfs who only got one half a day off every year for Easter cared so much about fine crumb structure and single origin grain,” pondered Walker as he read the hand written label on a basket of New York rye. “That guy behind the counter in the apron with the beard, tribal tatts and nose rings looks like he just stepped straight out of a painting by Pieter Brueghel the Elder.”
Unable to justify parting with $11.50 for a loaf of harvest grain lovingly crafted from a gritty mixture of millet, rat’s teeth, bark and plague germs, Phil has opted to get a six pack of Tip Top white hamburger buns from Woolies.