My very-most-favorite restaurant in the Other City (an hour-and-a-half north of here) labeled a certain dessert as a “gluten-free
chocolate crumble," but it turned out to be a solid block of something very close
to fudge with a few oats sprinkled on top.
Hard core stuff.
I tasted a tiny corner (it was obviously delicious and mouth-puckeringly
addictive) before occupying myself with a girly cup of berry tea and fragrant fresh
roses on the table.
As expected in this moment of flagrant diversion from our careful diet, my man aggressively descended on this chunk of
decadence and devoured half of it before deciding he was saturated to the gills…but what a way
to go.
Opulent extravagance. Such a contrast to our observations of life in Mexico.
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