Love at first bite

I think about it at least a dozen times a day. If there is a piece floating around the kitchen I will sniff it out and scoff it down. My dreams are sometimes punctuated with images of the stuff and I invariably wake up craving one.
After a life-time of successfully avoiding addiction to substances such as alcohol or tobacco, I have finally met my match: Iraqi bread, aka “samoon”.
Try to imagine the flavour and texture of a fresh, plain bagel that has mated with a panini and a soft, white roll. Mold the mix into the shape of a deflated rugby ball, shove it in the oven until it is fluffy and warm on the inside, smooth and firm out the outside and voila, samoon.
This scrumptious nugget of baked pleasure adorns breakfast tables up and down Iraq, where it is lovingly dunked into bowls of cream-cheese, honey or jam.
It frequently pops up at lunchtime too, with chicken or lamb tikka gracing its innards, sandwich-style. A basket of the more-ish dough slabs is also to hand at dinner, with families stocking leftover slices in a bread basket for later.
I first sampled the delights of samoon four years ago when I dutifully tried it with various accompanying fillings. I soon realized, however, that the taste of the bread itself eclipsed anything that went with it so I switched to eating slices on their own, meaning that I could get through more in one sitting.
Since then, my samoon-per-day count has rocketed to worrying levels.
A straw poll of ordinary Iraqi adults led me to believe that average samoon consumption is one, two or perhaps three portions within a 24-hour period. I typically get through four and, on a bad day, have even managed nine.
It has reached the point whereby work is postponed for a few minutes if a warm samoon is in the vicinity – well the snack doesn’t taste as nice if it gets cold.