I had failed to find suitable refreshment in Bothwell in the past and held out faint hope for satiety. Main Street seemed to be more concerned with outward appearances; hairdressers, salons, skincare etc than satisfying inner fulfilment. Unless you count the colonic hydrotherapy clinic. Which I suppose provides the opposite of inner fulfilment.
This time fortune smiled on me: the Cadzow Bakehouse was open. I jemmied the van into a tight, free carpark round the back and wandered in, expectations set at median. Cadzow Bakehouse is just a generous counter, coffee machine, bread rack and a display of a few dried deli-type bits. Chatty locals were queueing out of the door and almost all the bread was gone, sold out before midday. A good omen. Judging by the resigned banter of the queue behind me, unless Jesus came back and went to work muy pronto, I was going to get one of the last two sourdough loaves. The large range of baked goods were selling fast too but being constantly resupplied direct from the baking trays by the matey, Carhartt-clad staff. I considered my strategy. There were so many large, unusual looking buns, cakes and traybakes. When in doubt, one should plump for a cinnamon bun.
A large ursine gentleman in dungarees who was capably running the counter dipped a paw in a passing tray of cinnamon buns and snared me one. I also bought the penultimate sourdough loaf and felt the disappointment behind me in the line. A feeling my presence often seems to create. The large ursine gentleman commented to me, sotto voce, ‘I don’t think they proved right. Tastes fine but I’m only charging you £2’. £5.50 for the coffee, huge bun and loaf. Everything about this bakery had exceeded my expectations.
Under his dungarees the large ursine gentleman was wearing an Unknown Pleasures T-shirt. Across the top it read ‘Lovejoy Division’. He baked buns. He clearly loves Joy Division. Could it mean something more? My brain ran on, whizzing round inside the old noggin; perhaps the large ursine gentleman was a devotee of TV’s roguish antiques dealer Lovejoy, as portrayed by Ian McShane. Did Lovejoy have his own Division? How would Lovejoy deploy them at auctions, during house clearances and in light comedic scrapes? Did they have their own buns? How is their morale now McShane has defected to Hollywood…
I consumed my coffee and bun al vano. The coffee was not bad. The bun was huge, fresh and sumptuous. Next morning I started the sourdough loaf. Superb. £5.50 for the trio! Magnifico.
Apparently the Bothwell Cadzow Bakehouse is an offshoot of the Hamilton branch, which if it is anything like as good as the Bothwell one, I will be attending soon to satisfy our joint curiosity and my stomach.
Leave a comment if you must
You must be logged in to post a comment.