Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Food for Thought
We were at a new café in Princeton a few weekends ago. It had replaced a coffee shop that we thought had been doing well in this college town. It seemed the company philosophy was to go the Joiner route, namely, setting up shop in the bowels of a supermarket or medical care facility. No more of the stand alone option. Funny, that. It was always full but people still went there.The new eatery raised the standards for gnoshing offerings to go along with your coffee. Like a shark to chum, a three layer chocolate cake hooked me at first glance. It was served on a real plate and I was even trusted with a real fork to match. Taste expectations climbed like a flu victim’s temperature. Escorting my slice out to a sidewalk table, I parked my backside on a chair that offered the tilt-back, tilt-forward, tilt-to-one-side option that comes standard with seating on wobbly sidewalks. Folding a section of the Sunday NYT under one of the legs, I righted the seat, minimizing the need for Dramamine.
First, a sip of the coffee.
Then, a generous slice of the cake, with the tongue extended to anxiously receive the layers of chocolate. A pause, a sigh, and an eyebrow raised.
She noticed. "Your cake? A disappointment?"
"Well, I expected a different taste. A touch of rum. An intensity of dark chocolate. A gathering of tastes in the layers that would dovetail with the coffee."
"All this from one slice of cake!? Your standards are so high. Your expectations are without reason."
"Look, for $5/slice I think I’m allowed to raise the bar. But, to top it all off, it’s dry. Dry from being in that Window of Temptation; a slice sitting alone without protection with other slices. The aroma, the soul. They’ve both dissapated within the display case. See, if you look at the corners of the case, you can see taste hanging in little clouds."
I continue eating and commenting with each swallow. As I finished the last morsel, I carefully scraped the frosting from the porcelain plate, apologizing for the high-pitched scraping that resulted.
"So, this cake of which you spoke and not with fondness? You liked it after all, right?"
"No, not really. I know it must look peculiar to you, staring at my empty plate."
"I wouldn’t call it empty; spotless would be more apt. See, you think that all food that you eat out of the house should be excellent, if not at least good. That’s an approach that will always lead you to sadness. Look at it as Food You'll Finish, because that’s basically what we decide at restaurants. I order the food. The food is delivered. I commence with the eating and I then come to the fork (sorry!!) in the meal. Do I finish it? Do I not? In most cases, the former will rule and I’ll feel positive of my initial decision, namely, what I had ordered. Your dining life will be much more enjoyable for it. And, if by pure luck, the restaurant food is good…well, that's a bonus."
"Food for thought, that. Let me gather another slice and approach its enjoyment from your prospective. To eat or not to eat, that will be my question."
Comments:
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All this posting! I keep coming back to read your blood pressure readings and heart rate. You're holding out on us, aren't you?
As for the "torta," it's a sad truth. One really must make thy own to get the satisfaction of rum-soaked, dark-chocolate-coated, moist, multiple layered, cake in this country.
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As for the "torta," it's a sad truth. One really must make thy own to get the satisfaction of rum-soaked, dark-chocolate-coated, moist, multiple layered, cake in this country.
<< Home Verging on Pertinence Just some more disposable thoughts clogging up the hinterlands
