The wicked sugar passes through my lips and touches the tip of my tongue. The most intense taste is at the tip – the taste buds with the best sweetness perception are there.

I chew on the troubling, perfect dough - it is so warm and cinnamony. The inside is wet and spiced, where the top is glazed white with a light crunch.

I gently pull it apart, tricky piece by tricky piece from the outer edge to the awful middle, which is the sweetest part of all. I regretfully pop the terrible middle in my mouth and quickly follow it with hot tea.

The sticky syrup is all over my hands but it smells so good. Snowflakes of white icing are sprinkled all over my clothes.