decedent dessert

Saturday bruncheons/luncheons with my friend Rick are the rare social occasions that I actually look forward to and thoroughly enjoy. They also do not last inordinately long, in fact, they are, in the infamous sentiments of the that ultimate trespasser, Goldilocks, “Just right!” (Children’s stories can sometimes be most horrifically eerie, why would people tell children stories encouraging trespassing, breaking and entering, helping themselves to other people’s property and then expect children to grow up honest, law abiding citizens?)

Anyhow, we started off with coffee at the Coco Cubano, then decided to deviate from Rick’s previous week long brain worm about Nasi Goreng at Mamak Village, and eat at the Coco instead. I admit that I was the one who suggested a burger. Alas, I am not sure about Rick, but I didn’t like the burger much. The meat was overcooked, dry and crumbly, and the fries were coated in some kind of paprika marinade and tasted dull and heavy. This taste-seeking Aspie had to resort to dunking everything into the out-of-a-bottle sour cream dip (or something resembling some kind of creamy dippy thingy).

The highlight of the menu, however, was the “decedent dessert.” (Thanks to Rick, the word-meister, for noticing that one.) No, we didn’t have any dessert, the burger was quite enough testament to the culinary expertise at that outlet, and besides, I don’t really fancy eating dessert that has been officially declared dead!

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