Sitting at a table in a small restaurant on a planet whose name she couldn’t even spell, never mind pronounce, Donna practically swooned with delight as she bit into one of the small cakes she and the Doctor had been served with their tea. It was as light and fluffy as a cloud, sweet as spun sugar with a hint of something fruity, and melted in her mouth.
“Oh my God, these are heavenly, I could eat them all day! D’you think they’d let me have the recipe?”
“Wouldn’t do you any good, you’d never get the ingredients on earth.”