Menus that lie
Few people, I think, take food as seriously as I do.
Within minutes of walking into a restaurant, I know exactly what I want, based on a combination of factors including (but not limited to) weather, hunger, emotional state, dining companion and financial health. That being said, it is always time for a pastry! And last week I found myself at (what looked like) a rather fine dining establishment.
The layout is inviting, the place clean, the scenery beautiful and more importantly, the menu promised that I could have a brownie. I spent the whole morning preparing myself (emotionally, physically and mentally) for that brownie.
A brownie, for those of you unfamiliar with this culinary piece of genius, is a cake-like cookie that contains significant amounts of chocolate and, usually, nuts. The top part is quite chocolatey and chewy while the bottom is soft and more cake-like.
So, I arrived and was assured that the brownie was available.
I quickly ordered, wondering what kind of twist this place would put on their brownie. More chocolate than nuts? More nuts than chocolate? Slightly warmed with the chocolate melting just right? I would soon find out.
The waitress appeared in front of me, bearing a small, brown, unpretentious cake on a small, white, unpretentious side-plate.
It had been warmed to the point of do-not-touch-my-tongue in the microwave. It looked like the kind of cake that no one picks from the display counter.
I was so shocked (and hungry) that I could do nothing but accept my imposter brownie. Each bite tasted of betrayal, washed down with the saliva of bitterness and digested with the bile of resentment. It was as far from being a brownie as a camel is from being ice-cream.
