Yesterday started with a spork and a somersaulting stomach. And a pair of stretchy pants, and a carry-on. Stuffed to the gills.
Yesterday ended with a sundress, two forks, and three layers of good gracious what IS that (hazelnut wafer, cappuccino chocolate mousse, and dark chocolate ganache — all dipped in chocolate).
A lot happened in between, including the fact that 2pm suddenly became 11am. But can we go back to that dessert for a second?
I tend to remember my life in meals: million layer lasagna after the marathon on my 21st birthday, falafel the first time my life fell apart, oysters the second time I fell in love, lamb gyros the night I decided to quit my first real job.
Last night’s dinner was significant too, although I haven’t figured out why. Not just yet. But chances are I’m going to owe something to someone named Spike. Spike invented those “chocolate bars of sin” you see up there. Each had a hard outer shell, so it was almost like cracking into a crème brûlée, for a second. But the center, when the walls did give way, was smooth and silky and so reckless — right down the bottom layer, which was as good as the Oreo crust on a very tall cheesecake. There was just the barest hint of coffee, too, peeking through all that chocolate.
I gave it a good chase, even though I wanted to save the entire thing for last.
But before that, before I completely lost my head and asked where I could find this guy named Spike, there were sea scallops. Three of them, pan-seared. And caramelized cauliflower, with teeny tiny snap peas, and a piece of bacon that someone decided probably wouldn’t hurt, at the very last minute. I bet I’d like that person, too.
And before dinner — which was slow and shared and savored, and all of those important things — there was sun. So much sun. And endless blue sky, with only an occasional palm tree to interrupt. Or four.
It is so easy to relax, here. It’s as if there is no other way.
I have a little help, on the relaxing front. Her name is Mom, and she always knows the perfect thing to say. “For the next nine days, you aren’t going to think about ex-boyfriends, what’s going to happen after this trip, or how much you ate. You’re just going to enjoy.”