another morning, breakfast for some of us was a remarkably life-like, custard-filled totoro bun. not for me: the day before, i had chanced upon the new digs of the japan centre on regent street. i stumbled into this warren of wonders, and came away with the bready gift for my sister.

it is more frenetic in the store than out on the street. past the sidewalk tables with the unsettling spongey seating, just after the entrance, there is hot steamy action with freshly made savoury snacks. then there are the refrigerated shelves piled with ready-made meals. there are a few rows of tables where people can (and do! madness!) sit and eat this food amidst the crush. there is, somewhat inconveniently placed, a bank of cash registers, before the grocery section kicks in — all the staples and then some, as well as a fridge of treats like cottage industry black sesame panna cotta and maccha swiss rolls. there is a wall of practical kitchen utensils, whimsical bento accoutrement and aluminium foil printed in cartoon characters. beyond all that, almost hidden, a sushi train. truly a fine example of a small but hyper(crazy)efficient inner city supermarket.

back home, totoro-pan was met with an appropriate amount of appreciative gasping, and delivered a comforting combination of airy, sweet bread (complete with “polo” topping for the belly) and nice light custard. me, i had the tiniest nibble, and then contented myself with eating quite a bit of the kid’s hello kitty bun. really, i’d bought it for effect, as the child does not like custard, not even chocolate custard. shame: kitty’s filling was a smooth, dark specimen, rich with cocoa. when i was done tearing limb from bready limb, i licked my fingers clean.