Sweetness Interrupted

I recently went to one of my favorite restaurants. I love the atmosphere, the food, and the people there, and enjoyed a lovely meal and some live music. I decided to order a dessert, and I asked the waiter what he recommended. Often the wait staff knows what is best on their own menu. He highly recommended the cheesecake, so I asked him to bring me some.

It arrived, a very large piece, as all their portions are at this establishment, and beautifully accented with home made whipped cream, fresh strawberries artfully arranged along the sides, and a strawberry sauce drizzled over the top. I shaved a small bite off the tip of the triangle and savored it a moment. It was creamy and sweet, the perfect temperature and texture and flavor. Absolutely lovely alone, not even needing the strawberry accents. Next bite I took I added some of the sauce and whipped cream and a slice of strawberry with the cheesecake.

My brow furrowed as I tried to identify what the sudden tart flavor was. A strawberry not quite ripe? It wasn’t quite enough to destroy the flavor of the sweet and creamy dessert, but it was certainly a distraction. I tried another bite, no strawberry this time, just the cake and sauce. The sauce. Not the usual syrupy-sweet strawberry puree that is paired with a  cheesecake. Unusual, a little smoother than a puree, and definitely a sharp, tart, almost vinegary flavor to it.

I flagged down the waiter and asked what the description of the sauce was. I fully expected it to be a creation of the chef – perhaps meant to pair the sweet cake with a tart sauce to balance it, like salt with caramel or coffee with chocolate. He looked at me quizzically and said “it’s a strawberry puree.” I paused a moment, then said “I don’t think it is. Perhaps there was a mistake made?”

It suddenly hit me what it was…it was a strawberry vinaigrette! I love strawberry vinaigrette on salad, but it was so out of place here that I hadn’t identified it immediately.  I chuckled and told the waiter what I thought it was, and he quickly took it away. He came back a few minutes later and explained that I was right, it was a strawberry vinaigrette that they had made and the chef grabbed the wrong sauce when he plated the cheesecake! I was laughing, and made sure to let him know that I was not at all upset about it. He brought me another piece, with real strawberry puree. It was as amazing as I had anticipated the first one would be.

Sometimes life is like that cheesecake.

Something beautiful arrives exactly as we hoped for it to be, but mixed into it is an unexpected bitterness that doesn’t seem to belong there. At first we question ourselves. Did we misunderstand what we were tasting? Did we expect too much? Was the sweetness ever really there at all?

But sometimes the bitterness is simply the wrong thing in the wrong place. Vinaigrette on a salad is wonderful, on cheesecake it is not. It does not mean cheesecake itself is disappointing. It simply means someone accidentally poured vinaigrette where puree belonged.

Life can feel that way after hardship. One painful experience can distort our expectations for everything that follows. We begin bracing for the sharpness, anticipating disappointment even in beautiful moments. Yet sometimes what we are tasting is not a reflection of the whole experience, but an interruption to it.

And sometimes, if we are willing to speak up, ask questions, and stay open long enough to try again, we discover the sweetness that was there all along.

(Pictured is the cheesecake with the correct strawberry puree.)