My Da died when I was 3, and we moved in off the creamery farm, eventually
ending up on Main Street, living beside a bakery. It was lovely!
I liked the smell of the fresh bread baking every morning. (much better than the
smell of cows at the dairy!) This bakery also delivered its bread using a horse
drawn cart. The horse was smart- he would clip clop down the street, and knew
where to stop so George could make his deliveries. Then while George was at the
door of one house, dropping off the bread, the horse would amble on to the next
house, stop and wait. Smart horse.
We ate warm bread straight from the oven with fresh butter and home made
strawberry jam with no ill effects. Maybe waiting for the bread to cool before
eating it had more to do with the kind of yeast that was being used? Also, its
much easier to slice bread that has set (cooled).