“I mostly have to put the pastries in the oven and take them out again when the timer goes off. Any robot with oven mitts could do this job. I taste a cooling croissant and cringe. It’s not awful, but there’s a suspicious aftertaste to it, almost like black pepper. “Disgusting, right?” Taylor says, seeing my face. “We’re pretty sure all the stuff here is made at a spice factory. The resort must get it at a really good price.” Carrie snorts. “Too bad no one actually wants to eat donut...s that taste like”—she takes a bite—“basil.” I’m tempted to ask why we can’t make the pastries from scratch, but I don’t want to rock the boat, not when I’m only going to be here for a couple of days. At around 8 a.m., the breakfast rush starts. Some of the people who bustle into the café are clearly tourists who are staying at the hotel (based on their golf clothes and flip-flops), but most of the customers are resort employees who are there for their morning iced-coffee fix.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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