The wedge sits on the plate unadorned by distractions, such as over sweet chocolate syrup or powered sugar. Plain, dark, slightly shiny on top, sides rough where the knife separated it from the rest of the torte. The end shares the slight sheen of the top, but only a bit. The wedge teases the fork, yielding with just a touch of pressure. The fork parts the small section and is brought closer to the lips. Turn the fork upside down, placing the tines to the roof of the mouth, the torte to the taste buds.
Instantly the chocolate melts with the warmth of the tongue. Flavor explodes, filling the senses with profound experience. The gods knew of this ambrosia and gave it to the humans as a reminder of paradise. As the fork is slid out of the mouth, the temperature of the body continues to melt the piece. And one must ask, ‘Why does the world not stop to allow the complete time needed to savor the intensity of the dark, luscious, bonbon like quality of the flourless torte?’
Cat Stark 