Berry Red and Dark

Doing the previous tag reminded me of a night last year in D.C. when Mike, Dannii, Jess and I went to my favorite French place, Le Pain Quotidian, for the first time. It's one of my favorite memories from DC.

"Pouring a small pitcher of pure, Belgian, dark chocolate into the steaming cup of frothy milk produced a delight in me I can't explain. As did the sharp sweetness of the berry tart nestled in an almond crust. We devoured it with relish--our four forks carving and crumbling the saucer-sized dessert--our cheeks growing red with new warmth. In the pictures we took, the chocolate cups and tart look haloed, emanating their own light. After the inexplicable sadness of the previous night--Mike holding me until I quieted--the sweet warmness feels healing. I keep whispering to Mike, "This is what I've needed...I didn't realize...this is what I've needed."

It sounds ridiculous to say that a few bites of tart and a small cup of hot chocolate filled whatever was void in me, but I can't put away the deep sense of joy it evoked--the deep crimson of the berries, the creamy vanilla custard, the almond crust (i press my fingers to the crumbs and lick), the dark bitter of the frothy milk. But the richness of it, the communal blessing of partaking together--all leaning in, our eyes closing with every bite--filled some unknown cracks in my heart. Whatever sadness (or steadying hormones or universal conspiracy or...) seems to take from me, the world seems able to give back--berry red and dark--the beauty of the bite still lingering on the tongue--the suffused pink cheeks and ear tips of friends drawn close. I can hardly bear the fullness of it."