A trip down a (very basic but very blissful) foodie memory lane in Spain

I went to Palma Nova in Spain with my parents when I was four and I have never forgotten the joy of what I consumed there. Nope, nothing healthy from that sunny place, but the stodgiest treats I could get my little hands on – donuts and chocolate milk. Specific brands, mind you.

As you can imagine, I was over the moon last week to be back in the country and I couldn’t resist snapping up some of both. And, surprisingly, they weren’t a disappointment at all. The donuts, still in their distinctive yellow packaging, were just that degree of moist that I remembered, the glaze more evident on their bottom halves.

The colacao milk was divine, different than brands here for a reason I am finding it hard to put a finger on. I sank one bottle practically in a single mouthful, closed my eyes and sank back into a bus seat beside my mum. For one moment, I was right back on a stool at the bar of the hotel aged just a few years, revelling in a special treat.

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