Day 109- Defying Description

Glassware 109/365

Food has not been beyond the purvey of this blog, but I am not usually one at a loss for words. On day 90 I described the Joe Shanghai dumplings as a “steamy, salty, and fatty burst of soupy deliciousness.” On day 4 I celebrated the fact that regular running allows me to indulge in such treats as a Chef’s special consisting of a buffalo chicken egg roll, half an italian sandwich, potato salad and coleslaw. But I feel that words alone cannot, in anyway, describe the desert that I ate on Friday night– as part of my calorie laden binge in preparation for the Brooklyn Half Marathon.

I can describe the restaurant. This was a tiny spot on St. Mark’s Place called, quite naturally, Spot. Down a short flight of stairs from the vibrant but gritty street, the stoop outside was a serene Japanese style garden. Inside it was packed, at 11pm on a Friday night, with groups of what was predominantly (almost 100%) asian NYU students. A perusal of the menu suggested that this place took itself too seriously: the deserts were called tapas and there was an Omakasa. This judgement of mine was before I tasted the offerings: I will be returning for the Omakasa.

I can describe the cupcake I ate– chocolate with Green tea ice cream. The cake was moist, the green tea frosting with the spicy subtlety of green tea– rich, but not too rich, and not at all sweet, and yet not savory. But I feel completely incapable of describing the Zuzu Eskimo, a desert that matched the uniqueness of its name and without a doubt the best sweet dish I have ever eaten. It was cold, and yet not ice cream; lemony, and yet not fruity; with cocoa, and yet without the taste of chocolate. I can only say that after one bite I moaned, When Harry Met Sally style, and then watched as my friend took her first bite, waited for the precise moment when the perfect aftertaste would hit her, knowing she would moan as well– and watched her do so.

Going for this desert meant I ended up getting home a little too late. After packing my running bag I went to bed after 12.30pm, leaving me with considerably less than 5 hours sleep before having to wake up and run 13 miles. But at no point, even during the most exhausted portion of this run, did I regret this decision. Perhaps this is all the description the desert truly needs.

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