Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Or at least, I weep.
I'm sometimes not sure why or when or what or how.
But I do.
Sometimes it's a painting.
Or a play.
Or a passage from a book.
A beautiful moving speech.
Or a Baked Alaska.
Specifically: the Coconut Baked Alaska with Passion Fruit sauce at Oleana in Cambridge.
We go there, on
and sit outside on their patio (which - to me - is mandatory)
and I always order it for dessert.
And every time,
as its being brought to our table,
diners stop and turn their heads.
And watch it.
Because it's like seeing a fawn
in the forest
from a moving car.
Or a Yeti.
A delicious Yeti.
It's strange and fabulous and wonderful-looking.
This impossible, expressive sculpture of meringue.
And every time, after it's set down before me
and I begin to eat it,
at some point, I start to weep.
Because it's like being a child again
and someone has just told you that you are loved
no matter what.
In dessert form.
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