Afternoon Snacks

A small crusty baguette, sliced open and stuffed with a thick bar of dark chocolate. The bread squishes the chocolate as you bite.

Every Spanish kid in the 80s had chocolate smeared on their cheek by 6 pm.

A glass of cold ColaCao (chocolate malt drink) with a stack of María biscuits (o TostaRica) for dunking until they go soft.

The trick was to pull the biscuit out at exactly the right moment before it collapsed into the glass.

A soft, dome-shaped sponge cake wrapped in pleated paper, bought fresh from the panadería.

The little paper cups were peeled off in one satisfying spiral.

A crusty bread roll rubbed with fresh tomato, a drizzle of olive oil, then filled with thin jamón and a slice of Manchego.

Wrapped in paper and eaten on the way home from the pool, still in your swim costume.

Popcorn made in a big pot with olive oil and salt, shared while watching the telly at La primera.

The smell of the oil popping meant the cartoons were about to start.

A slice of fresh white bread, spread thickly with unsalted butter and sprinkled with crunchy sugar granules. Sweet, simple and perfect.

Every abuela had a tin of sugar on the table, and every kid left a trail of crumbs on the terrace.

A crisp apple, cored and sliced into wedges, then sprinkled with sugar.

The sweet crunch of sugar on tart apple was the healthiest treat a kid could get away with.

Roasted sunflower seeds in the shell, cracked open one by one with your front teeth.

Every kid on the street corner had a pile of empty shells at their feet.

Peeled and chopped orange lightly sprinkled with sugar.

Come home on a hot summer afternoon for a cold sweet orange Don't forget to drink the super sweet juice at the end.

Two slices of white Brennan's bread, thickly buttered, with a generous layer of strawberry or raspberry jam in the middle.

The official currency of Irish childhood — traded, shared and squashed in your schoolbag.

The original Irish crisp. A red bag of thin, crinkly potato crisps flavoured with cheese and onion powder.

Invented in 1954 and eaten in every Irish playground ever since. The red bag is sacred.

A crunchy rice cake, smeared with a thick layer of Nutella that melts into every ridge.

The 'healthy' snack that every Irish kid turned into dessert the moment the jar came out of the cupboard.

A plastic tube of frozen neon-coloured juice. You bit the top corner off and sucked until your brain froze.

Red was the most popular flavour, and every kid had a sticky chin by tea time.

A thick wedge of brown Irish soda bread, still warm from the oven, slathered with real butter that melts into the crust.

Granny's kitchen smelled of baking soda and butter every Saturday afternoon.

Heinz baked beans in tomato sauce, heated in a pot and poured over buttered white toast.

The emergency merienda. Ready in three minutes, eaten in two, plate licked clean.

The holy trinity of Jacob's biscuits. A pink marshmallow dome, a jammy sandwich, and a coconut cream.

The tin came out after Mass, and there was always a fight over the last Kimberley.

A chocolate-covered biscuit bar with a creamy filling, wrapped in foil with a terrible joke printed inside.

'P-p-pick up a Penguin' — and then read the joke out loud to anyone who would listen.