He was too nice. He was just too happy. It wasn't normal.
And it wasn't an insincere happiness either. This man was genuinely thrilled to be there. When I decided to order the berry cobbler his face lit up with pure and unfiltered joy. I should have known then.
A ceramic bowl was placed before me. I could barely make out the crust of cobbler or blue berries beneath the mound of ice cream topped with whipped cream and raspberry sauce. The heat from the cobbler created a steam when it met with the frosty cold ice cream that was smothering it from above.
After the first bite it all made sense.
Who couldn’t be happy here? Who wouldn’t want to live their life serving the most amazing deserts known to man in a tiny room with exposed brick and warm lighting. Why would that server ever want to leave this place. Why would I for that matter?
Once I was able to collect myself I glanced across the table. Nick was staring at me. Wonder and amazement in his eyes.
“What,” I said. Nervous that I’d made some sort of unconscious exclamation that I would die happy now I’d tasted this miraculous cobbler.
“That was the most delicious bite of cake I’ve ever had,” he said. “I’m afraid to take another bite because there is no way anything could ever be better than that bite.”
For the first time I noticed that he had a large slice of white cake sitting in front of him. Our buy one get one free coupon put to good use. His plate was covered in a caramel drizzle. The cake looked as if it had some sort of caramel mixed within the batter. As Anna would say, “the intrinsic nature of the cake was caramelized.” It looked delicious. I couldn’t think about anything but my cobbler.
As I gazed lovingly at my plate, I cursed the delicious dinner we’d just had at a fancy pants restaurant down the street. How dare those oysters and flounder take up room for this masterpiece of a cobbler? What had I been thinking when I ever ate anything but this cobbler. In a sugar induced craze, Nick and I began to make promises we knew we couldn’t keep.
“I’ll never eat anything but this cobbler ever again,” I swore. “If I died now I’d be happy because this cake is all that matters in the world,” he wept.
It was too good. We didn’t even eat it quickly. We savored each bite. Sucked the essence out of every particle of each dish. Neither of us even came close to finishing. And then we realized. We couldn’t take it home. Not only would it prove to be a logistical nightmare. The consistency of both dishes were not suitable for travel. But there was no way to transport the atmosphere and the flavor of that tiny place. It wouldn’t be the same. It would ruin the most delicious thing either of us had ever had. We didn’t want a reheated version of heaven. Not when it was sitting right in front of us.
A delirious laughter took over. We were filled with the simple joy and remorse that comes with the knowledge that you’ve tasted the best, and nothing will ever be as good ever again.
Now, in the light of day, I realize that there is a reason to go on living. Because I can have my slice of heaven again. In fact, it only costs $5.75.
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