She adores the smell of freshly baked bread. He likes biting into the warm dough, savoring the crusty softness of each bun.
It's been their daily indulgence for weeks now, starting their mornings with Pan de Manila pan de sal and a cup of freshly-made coffee which they share between the two of them.
Sometimes she spreads butter; sometimes he chooses cheese. Sometimes he plops spanish sardines on open sandwiches. Some days it's liver spread for her; some days it's peanut butter when she craves for something sweet. Most days though they tear the pan de sal with their fingers, and take turns dunking the halves in their shared cup of coffee.
Days aren't the same when they start without this ritual, like when he failed to buy their daily ration on his way home one night, and they awoke to a pandesal-less morning. Gingerly they sipped their coffee, trying to compensate with almost every item in their bread basket. Ube Piaya, Red Ribbon Banana Crunch, mongo ensaimada and corner-bakery-pandesal bites later, they found themselves still longing for the aroma and the texture that's uniquely in their favorite Pan de Manila.
And so it has been that, when their supply is spent, they hie off to the nearest Pan de Manila outlet and replenish to ensure they have a ready stash for breakfast the next day. Oh, they laugh about this craziness between themselves, but he drives and she comes with him anyway, whether it's after dinner or the early hours of the morning (sometimes, still in their pajamas!), to the Pan de Manila outlet they fancy. The staff at the Zapote Road, South Expressway and Guadalupe must know them by now, this Bonnie and Clyde of pan de sal.
