Fitting that Salivation continues on, for I have once again strode into a new adventure; another excursion away from home. In this case, it was trading practical attire and comfort food with summer attire and…comfort food of a different sort. This piece is an attempt to capture this and many other culinary experiences once again. I must preface this journey, however, through the abysmal culinary beginning that I experienced so that we can end on the first pleasant and delectable surprise that was found afterwards. Patience will be rewarded, for there were more experiences to come after the first.
Landing in summer weather during the heart of winter is a discombobulating experience. That is the excuse I will stick with, for my food questing began with my traveling companions picking out the first place that could shovel food into our faces after a long and uncomfortable flight, and myself agreeing almost immediately. As such we made our way to a nearby Cheeseburger Prime, which was decided upon over my original choice. This would be a grave error in hindsight. Luck was on my side this day, however; though the Cheeseburger was nothing to (no pun intended) write about, it was satisfactory for the moment at hand. Sadly for the rest of my companions, it was not. Originally the mindset we shared was a blasé attitude towards the quality of our food, as we came in with low expectations. Time passed with blue concoctions to hopefully bring out the levity in ourselves after arduous travel, but upon receiving our burgers my companions were met instead with three live and shaking cows in place of meat. One could look at our plates and recognize almost immediately that a grave misfortune had fallen onto us.
Hard, shockingly bland pineapple graced my youngest companion between two buns and a writhing cow that refused to bend to the rule of the kitchen. It mooed as he took bites to find perhaps a less lively portion, but sadly each and every bite resulted in further mooing and a disgruntled grimace. My other companions fared no better, and only realized later as I explained my side of fresh greens and dressing that they were given naked greens. The poor family of kale and spinach clasped their hands over themselves embarrassed at the state of affairs they found themselves in. While I came away unscathed, my companions dreams were haunted with the experience as we made our way to slumber.
This, of course, had to be explained properly for one to understand that what came afterward saved this adventure almost entirely. Upon waking my youngest companion was beset by what one would best describe as “Oh God It Was So Raw, I Feel Like My Insides Are Outside, Have Mercy, Why Must I Suffer” (To be more precise, OGIWSRIFLMIAOHMWMIS for short.) In order to begin the day fresh and with a far grander experience, we searched high and low until we found our phones before browsing on the web for anything worthwhile. That is when I came across a place known as the Cream Pot. With equal measures of trepidation and determination, we made our way out into the grace of a pure blue sky and scorching winter sun to set out towards our objective. After a bit of searching, we eventually made it to our destination but found ourselves worried. It was as if what was in front of us came from another land, the earth being transported and shaped into the side of the streets amidst the tall buildings and traffic. White picket fences and hanging flowers surrounded the entire restaurant, and each sign was hand-crafted. I felt briefly as if we had discovered the home of an eccentric English grandmother whose home had remained in her ownership for decades, and has allowed us a small chance to feel a sense of comfort. It took some time to adjust ourselves to our findings before making our way up the steps and to a giant sliding glass door, which allowed us to gaze into the inside of the restaurant.
The restaurant was filled with patrons, many conversing happily over cups of coffee and brunch. The tables were large, with chairs covered in embroidered cloth and the shelves stacked with displays and statues of various origins, all of which seemed to be hand crafted. Taking our seats, we were given a small booklet that displayed all of our menu items through pictures, and one dish in particular stood out in the the crowd of pleasing eye candy as a wholly new experience. As we waited, we ordered coffee and I was taken aback by the drinks that came to us. The iced coffee topped with honest homemade whipped cream, mixed with the drinks bitterness was a soothing and cool experience to stave off the heat. The best was yet to come, however.
Before me jiggled my cloud, my precious delicacy. Topped with a sprinkling of powdered sugar, it wobbled as I moved to cut into it, red strawberries accentuating the wholesomeness of the moment. My fork passed through the cloud as one would expect, resistance completely absent and the smooth tender inside made manifest. It was time to taste this souffle pancake.
Touching my lips, and the moment I could taste it, my mind traveled. I felt as if I was small again, waiting in excitement for something new and precious that I’ve never tried before. I thought back to the feelings of comfort I once had when around my godparents, how I would delight in desserts and treats. My mind only came back to present for brief moments as I ate, as each bite passed through like vapors, tantalizingly quaint moments that were exactly that: Moments. I was beyond satisfaction when nothing was left but the remains of powder and the return to the present.
I was content.
Writing in C Major 