A Brisk Walk, a Bold Bowl: Morning Reflections from Scarborough’s North Bay
There’s something about Scarborough mornings that’s impossible to replicate. Perhaps it’s the cry of the gulls echoing off the headland, or the scent of brine and kelp in the sea breeze as I trudge barefoot across the North Bay sands, my terrier Bertie bounding ahead like a creature born of salt and mischief. Today’s swim was brisk — the North Sea is never warm — but it set me up for the day. After drying off and tugging on my waxed jacket, I fished out a pouch of St. Bruno Flake from my inside pocket. The flake is dark and leathery, with the telltale tin-note of figs and fermented hay. Sitting on a driftwood log, I rubbed it out into ribbons and packed my trusty Peterson. Lighting up with the wind at my back, I was struck once again by the depth of St. Bruno — a bold, fruity smoke that cuts through the chill like a warming dram. It’s a tobacco that belongs here, among the windswept rocks and grey gull-sky. Not fussy, but full of character. Much like Scarborough itself. Toba...