For many years, I was under the severe misapprehension that the British 'malt loaf' was the same as the American family Sunday dinner favourite, the meat loaf. The idea that anyone would serve up the fruity, sweet current loaf with potatoes and gravy was, to my juvenile brain, in a whole other league of disgusting. Growing up in the nineties, I was among the last of my generation to fully enjoy the joys of Live 'n' Kicking and spending an entire afternoon running around a field in jelly sandals playing 'Capture the Flag' with the other kids on my estate. My Grandmother would pack me off to Primary school with a block of Soreen for my mid-morning snack, and what with all the painting, learning to write, cake baking and other brain- stimulating activities, it was a welcome indulgence by 11am.
During my adolescence, I wasn't particularly image-conscious, as I was brought up in an era years before 'Britain's Next Top Model' and size zero. Since moving to London at the age of nineteen, I started being a bit more watchful of my weight (especially given that 99% of my calorie intake was now coming from the stuff that comes out of a wine bottle). One lunchtime, on a visit to my local superstore, there it was - two slices of Soreen loaf WITH BUTTER ALREADY ON IT. Quite possibly the best invention since sliced... actually, the bread metaphor doesn't work here, as in a sense it is a form of sliced bread. Whatever you choose to call it, there is no denying the satisfaction in a mid- afternoon cup of tea at your office with a handy packet of lovely, lovely Soreen sat next to your 'I Heart Me' mug. Plus, the added bonus of it being 90% fat free is a happy notion when considering your waistline.
Here I am, two decades later, sinking my teeth into a slice of that familiar, fragrant loaf, and with it bringing back all those memories of making glittery pasta collages and Kipper, Bif and Chip. It is true that certain foods are evocative of particular feelings and memories, much as a song or piece of music has the power to transport a person right back to a past event, such is the power of the human sensory system. With ever-changing markets and tastes, it is commendable that the marketing gods at Soreen are bringing out new varieties of my favourite tea time loaf, and I'm sure that in another thirty or so years I will be dishing it out to my own Grandchildren as they toddle off for their first day at school.
My 4-step plan to the perfect Soreen snack:
1) Open foil
2) Take out slices
3) Pull apart
4) EAT!
During my adolescence, I wasn't particularly image-conscious, as I was brought up in an era years before 'Britain's Next Top Model' and size zero. Since moving to London at the age of nineteen, I started being a bit more watchful of my weight (especially given that 99% of my calorie intake was now coming from the stuff that comes out of a wine bottle). One lunchtime, on a visit to my local superstore, there it was - two slices of Soreen loaf WITH BUTTER ALREADY ON IT. Quite possibly the best invention since sliced... actually, the bread metaphor doesn't work here, as in a sense it is a form of sliced bread. Whatever you choose to call it, there is no denying the satisfaction in a mid- afternoon cup of tea at your office with a handy packet of lovely, lovely Soreen sat next to your 'I Heart Me' mug. Plus, the added bonus of it being 90% fat free is a happy notion when considering your waistline.
Here I am, two decades later, sinking my teeth into a slice of that familiar, fragrant loaf, and with it bringing back all those memories of making glittery pasta collages and Kipper, Bif and Chip. It is true that certain foods are evocative of particular feelings and memories, much as a song or piece of music has the power to transport a person right back to a past event, such is the power of the human sensory system. With ever-changing markets and tastes, it is commendable that the marketing gods at Soreen are bringing out new varieties of my favourite tea time loaf, and I'm sure that in another thirty or so years I will be dishing it out to my own Grandchildren as they toddle off for their first day at school.My 4-step plan to the perfect Soreen snack:
1) Open foil
2) Take out slices
3) Pull apart
4) EAT!
