quoth the onion nevermore

Coffee in Dundrum Shopping Centre with ould brown eyes the Spanish professor.
All is sunshine and light.
After some moments of incomprehensible badinage with me, the Spanish Onion gets up from our table and saunters over to the food counter.
"How long ago did you make that sausage roll?" she asks the girl behind the counter.
The girl, whose name tag reads Jacinta, fixes Spanishy with a moderately baleful look and replies in pure Dublinese.
"You wha?"
By the way, a moderately baleful look is easy for the girl behind the counter as her natural expression seems to verge on the baleful to begin with.
She is the sort of person I would personally never dream to trouble with questions about food quality.
A hardy Dub.
Spanishy repeats her question.
I sit back in my chair.
For I do love a piece of good theatre.
The Dub leans over the counter.
"Wha d'ya wanna know tha for?"
Professora smiles gently.
"I like them fresh. Come on. Tell me. Did you make it long ago?"
The Dub takes a step back.
"Mary," she calls to a friend in a voice loud enough to wake the dead. "Do ye hear wha this one is askin me?"
Mary arrives post haste from stage left.
She too is, in the best sense of an old fashioned phrase, a Dub.
She gazes at Spanishy who smiles serenely back.
"I know you," proclaims Mary suddenly before addressing the other girl again. "I know her. She's always comin in here and askin is the food fresh."
The two Dubs laugh and chime almost in unison: "Oh it's fresh alrighhh."
Presently the incomparable Spanish Onion returns to our table munching a sausage roll.
"Those girls were fun," she murmurs absent mindedly.