posting this late but a family friend very kindly handcarried a box of max*im mooncakes to london and they were amazeballs. am not the biggest fan of mooncakes and usually spoilt and only have the newfangled snowskin truffle type from a certain hotel, or durian. never been inclinced to have the traditional sort although they're the kind i remember having as a child. so truth be told, wasn't overly excited by the mooncakes when the mister produced them with flair. however, one bite and i was sold. then i hid them from him and scoffed the lot. because there was something different about them and something not only nostalgic but also addictive. weird, huh. wondered if it was because i was subconsciously homesick (no, not really) so i asked our benefactor where she'd acquired them. turns out she'd been based in hong kong for years and found these to be the best (no surprise!) and when she located them in singers was quick to buy a box for me. the way to my heart is truly through my stomach. so there was a massive half marathon outside the flat that morning and while i spied on the lycra clad keenies darkening the doorstep, i smugly nibbled mooncakey goodness, sipped monmouth coffee and thought, "better you than me!!!"
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