I'd had my espresso in the airport terminal mostly to stay awake during my long layover in Frankfurt. That would normally suffice for my caffeine high, until I wondered outside the terminal and found a German bakery - Roland's. Actually it was my nose that found it. I hadn't smelled a broetchen aroma like that since my teen years growing up here. Germans love their breads and at the moment I was loving the Germans for loving their breads. The eye candy for the store was a long glass enclosure of assorted pastries.
To any normal passerby a sweet pastry from Roland's would have been enough to succumb to their sweet tooth. But I knew better, having lived here 16 years. I knew what made the aroma wafting outside to the sidewalk that drew me in - it was that broetchen. Yes, the good ol' german broetchen, a white roll, crisp on the outside and soft and doughy on the inside. Made with some kind of secret ingredient no doubt, like special yeast or flour or something that gives the broetchen its certain "qualitat." American supermarkets and specialty bakeries have never been able to replicate the smells, tastes or consistencies of this elusive roll, at least not in my town. The helper loaded half a dozen rolls in a brown paper bag for me. This was going to be the best lunch i've had in a long time.
Roland's didn't have any sit down tables, which is fairly typical of German bakeries. So my rolls were take away. I was taking some of the best rolls in the universe with me; I was taking memories.