Deciding

'You will have to choose' he said. He looked at me with a big smile, as if he liked the fact that I had difficulties deciding. Two cakes were looking at me from the counter: a warm chocolate orange cake and Italian ricotta cheese pastry. I was standing there, jumping from one leg to the other, both sugarbombs definitely had assets. Chocolate always works, and the orange would make me feel special. Ricotta cheese on the other hand would prove soft and delicate. Only one I could take. I moved myself closer.

Maybe I could take both and silently eat them crouched down in the dark alley, straight from the box. I would taste the cream with my fingers and use my tongue to clean my lips.

No, today i felt like taking a table and eating with a fork, looking the other customers into the eyes and tell them: ‘Yes, I eat cake. Yes, I eat this whole damn thing, here, on this table, and I use cutlery in the process’. They would admire me for my determination.

The old man was still smiling at me, waiting patiently, not disturbed by the queue that was formed behind me.
‘Will tasting a little piece be of any help?’
‘No, no, thank you’. And pushed by the sighing waiting customers I pointed at the creamy ricotta, trying to look satisfied and convinced.

With a bright looking plate I walked over to a table on the left of the small patissier. Just when I wanted to take the first bite, the waiter passed by.
I couldn't help it.
‘Also bring me a piece of the chocolate orange, please’.

Never deny what you desire.

thirst quenching

It was an ordinary morning, but the moment she opened her eyes drops started rolling down her cheeks.
Maybe it was sadness, maybe not. At first she didn't notice anything, walking down the room and pulling the curtains while silently leaving wet traces on the loom-woven carpet. Then the mirror showed her shiny eyes and wet skin. Nice, but she had to get going now. So she brushed her teeth in tears, took a shower and let the salty and sweet water mix. She drank her morning coffee but never finished the cup, the salty tears kept refilling it. She ate while crying, drove to work with hazy eyes and hid herself behind her computer cleaning her desk constantly. She attended a meeting and excused herself with a sudden allergy. She searched her surroundings for hidden onions and spicy ingredients, but nothing could be found. Strangers in the street started talking to her, trying to figure out what was wrong, padding her on her shoulder and handing over fresh handkerchiefs.

When she arrived home that evening the tears were still streaming down her face. So she sat down, pressed her eyes, locked them so long until the tears had to turn back inside. From that day she never had to quench her thirst anymore.

Beware

It was their first dinner. For weeks she had invented little tricks to avoid eating together, finding it too intimate, worse than sharing a tootbrush or peeling nuts from one plate. She would say that she had already eaten, or that she felt filled from his love. The whole idea scared her away, she would see the cutting, slicing, ordering, chewing, thinking and playing. She would see how he composed his plate, the colours he chose. There was the tempo, the opening of his mouth, the eye contact and most of all, the touching of the food with his hands.

They had chosen a small cosy French place, with black windows and wooden tables. The food was offered on a daily basis, no use to try to figure out a dish beforehand. They sat down on a small table in the middle of the place and warmed up with a hot saké. Unnecessary.
He took grilled fillet steak with creamy white and red beans and leeks.
Meat.
She courgette salad with mint, garlic, red chilli, lemon and extra virgin olive oil.
Veggies.
A man and a woman.

He started. With his knife he cut a small piece of the meat, then used his fork to put it in his mouth. He slowed down eating and tasted. For seconds. Then he listened to her, asked questions. Was slightly fascinated. When she was telling him about the chill in the air, he stopped chewing. His hands took a little red azuki, he played without noticing. She easily finished his plate before him.

A success no doubt.