Some ideas, objects and pleasures are made to last, designed for eternal and unconditional love. My morning espresso, for instance, which I don’t ever pass up. A perfect baguette, right out of the oven, with a pat of butter… Am I right?

But others are destined to come and go like fireworks, and to return after months of longing. Or to never return. Here’s what I mean.

My mother’s french fries are thick, crunchy on the outside and tender on the inside, and never greasy. She sprinkles them with vinegar before salting them so the salt sticks. They are – no word of a lie – swoon-worthy. But would they be as good if I ate them every day? Same for those old-fashioned potato doughnuts dipped in maple syrup. I deprive myself in order to keep falling in love at first bite. Absence makes the taste buds grow fonder.

Première Moisson’s chocolate-cranberry bread is the pinnacle of this concept. I remember devouring this chocolate-cranberry bread with my eyes the first time I saw it on a countertop one December afternoon, its colours bright that grey Thursday,promising sweetness and crumbly abundance.

The temperature of food has a great deal to do with my addictions. Coffee, baguette, fries: if they’re not hot, you can keep them. But chocolate-cranberry bread somehow escapes that edict. I’m not sure why, but I blame the riot of fruit and chocolate chips. Each mouthful bursts differently depending on the constellation of sweet and tart in that bready heart. Cold, it’s great. And hot – you have no idea. And best of all, it heralds the arrival of Santa Claus.