My parents would rave about a kind of custard available to them in their youth. This sounds like a bizarre thing to wax eloquent about, but they genuinely believed a particular brand of custard sold when they were young was far superior to anything available on shelves by the time they had me.

This magical, mysterious sweet treat was supposedly available in the days soon after the British left, when Bombay's streets were still clean and the air still fresh. Apparently, everything went downhill from that point on, and custard was just one of the casualties on that long list.