A life changing custard tart.

Yesterday morning I attended the final session of my creative writing course. Last week didn’t happen due to the coronavirus shutdown but for this one our tutor suggested we have a go at doing things online. I was a little wary going in but have to say that through a mix of email and a WhatsApp group we had a thoroughly enjoyable couple of hours. It was proof that as the requirements for social distancing drag on there are ways to mix with people and to feel your everyday life isn’t being totally disrupted. Ahead of the session we were sent the image at the top of this post and asked to produce something inspired by it. The sole criteria was that it be no more than 500 words long. I took the chance to share this baking dream.

He’d known for a long time that things had to change, known that there’s only so long you can kid yourself into thinking everything’s ok.

‘Let’s take some time off’ was Giorgina’s suggestion. ‘Drop everything and run away. Have a mid life crisis before it’s too late’

‘You do realise that unless we live until 110 mid life has gone’ had been his less then enthusiastic response.

‘Come on, let’s hit the road and hope the road doesn’t hit back’

Now she was starting to sound like a Johnny Cash song, although in his book that wasn’t such a bad thing.

So they did drop things, they left the jobs that paid well but bored dreadfully and they took their chances with the road.

That’s how they came to be in Portugal, the land of mournful Fado music and quite possibly the finest custard tarts known to man. Custard tarts that in their own way had quite a lot to answer for.

The crunchy, flaky pastry and the rich custard filling of a well made Pasteis de Nata had always been his weakness. If offered along with a strong black coffee he was your friend for life.

It was a week into their stay when the idea started to really take form. They’d ventured out of Porto for the first time a few days earlier and meandered up the coast, hopping on and off the local busses. When the sun was at its less aggressive they’d walked as well and that’s when they came across the rickety old building and the nearly as ancient VW camper.

‘Why don’t we stay’

‘For another coffee?’ they were back in Porto now. Sat at a shaded table with coffee and the inevitable sweet treat.

‘No, stay in Portugal. Although you can have another coffee if you want’

‘Are you serious’

‘Yes I am. Your’e the one who always saying it’s now or never, so let’s make it now’

‘Ok, tell me your plan’

‘We buy somewhere like the beat up old place we saw the other day. Maybe even that one if it’s for sale. We stay here and for the first time in our lives we actually spend our time doing what we want to do’

And to probably nobody’s greater surprise that their own that’s what they did. The tumble down house was for sale and quickly became their’s for a ridiculously cheap price. The owner happily throwing the VW into the package as well and that was the point that David shared the rest of his plan. The plan that was going to see him spend the next three months sampling Pasteis de Nata across Portugal and learning to make them wherever bakers would let him into their kitchens. The plan that was going to let him have the bakery he’d always dreamed of.