A Recipe for Love
That's what you're really asking me, isn't it? A pinch of this and a sprinkle of that to comprise the complex blend of human emotions that we call love. Let me see, what would a standard recipe be comprised of?
To start, perhaps a generous glass or two of deep red burgundy for all of the intense emotions that boil beneath the thin, pale pastry dough baked and dried to the consistency of sand and salt, the dry, almost lifeless sense of longing and despair and loss, broken easily into crumbling bits.
But the filling? Ah, that would be full-on cream, thick and smooth and sweet as it hides behind all the others. For that precious and rare commodity, all the emotions that attempt to disguise the sweet taste and bury it deep within the pastry only to have it overflow into and onto everything until it must be licked slowly and with relish and enjoyed to the extreme. For that short, delicious time, almost anything is given and after it ends, almost everything is given to get it back and savor it once more. That flavor, that all-encompassing desire, steams up and swirls around the mind in tendrils of warm aroma
teasing the senses with tastes, touches, and scents of love, that indefinable substance that can take on any form as long as it is pleasurable in the human experience.