What is it, I wonder, about ice cream that makes me go all philosophical?
Earlier this year I posted a paean to ice cream entitled ‘Ice Cream Is Life‘. That was in direct response to a WordPress daily prompt, but more recently I was plunged unprompted into a new contemplative reverie by the alluring prospect of an Eton Mess.
For the uninitiated, an Eton Mess is a downright sinful combination of meringue, berries and cream or ice cream. If you’ve had it once, you’re going to want it again. And again.
And again.
It’s such a simple thing with simple components, yet somehow putting them together elevates the already sublime into something transcendent: the absolute best. With frills on. And gift-wrapped.
And this wasn’t just any Eton Mess. The USP of this particular brasserie’s version is the blackcurrant ripple ice cream element. You may recall from my previous post on the subject that I am particularly well disposed to this variety.
‘Yes, yes…oh God, yes’
Anyway, I found myself – with ‘my companion’, as all the best food reviews say – faced once again with this tantalising prospect: one that, it wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration to say, is never far from my thoughts.
To set the scene: we had already dined well on starter and main and so it was time to look at the dessert menu. I knew the Eton Mess was there, of course, and the sense of anticipation was tremendous: dry mouth, clammy palms and all.
Did I want it? Of course I did. But did I need it?
That really depends on how you define ‘need’. If you’re going to be boring, then insofar as my prior calorific intake had already been sufficient to sustain life until the next opportunity to feed came along, then no, I didn’t need it.
On the other hand, though, if it’s possible to want something so much that not having it is akin to mental torture then damn’ right I needed it.
What to do, what to do?
Fortunately or not – and I let you be the judge of that, dear reader – it isn’t me that ultimately decides these things.
‘I couldn’t eat another thing’ said my companion.
Oh well….maybe on my birthday.
the only deadhead in the hameau 