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2010-06-07
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I was determined she doesn't like me.Contradictions live within us, and all we struggle through are a way out -- yes or no, black or white, and to a foodie's mind -- have it or not have it (the latter being having it LATER, or ANOTHER TIME). It's a matter of choice, and today instant gratification won over. I walked through the familiar networks of restaurants and eateries, with a spring on my step, arriving at the old arcade, landing at the steps of the familiar shop. It was 5 minutes after ope
Contradictions live within us, and all we struggle through are a way out -- yes or no, black or white, and to a foodie's mind -- have it or not have it (the latter being having it LATER, or ANOTHER TIME). It's a matter of choice, and today instant gratification won over. I walked through the familiar networks of restaurants and eateries, with a spring on my step, arriving at the old arcade, landing at the steps of the familiar shop. It was 5 minutes after opening time.
Lady: What do you want?
Me (observing the empty fridge): Napoleon (in my polite voice)
Lady: Can't you see there aren't any?
Me: But when you open you never put them in the fridge (Our eyes met, she knew I'm not a first-timer)
Lady: How many?
Me: 2 please, small ones (with fingers showing her the size)
Lady: Ours is not that big. Ours is...
Me (interrupting): I would like two pieces, please, however big they are.
Lady: We don't have it. Come back later.
Me: How much later?
Lady: LATER.
30 minutes and a visit at 'Wah Sister' across the street. My returned marked my spot at the end of the line. The sales lady was smiling and greeting the ladies in front. When it was my turn, her face turned ashen yet again. She was determined to make me beg for it. I ran through the same routine above, and when she gave ma bone chilling cold stare for one last time, I stepped out and turned around, she was smiling cheerfully with the others. Was that a bad-service nightmare, or did I just entered another void in the parallel universe when manners don't matter?
The napoleon, layered and 'freshly made', was nowhere nearly as good to be called a mille-feuille. The layers had that crispness..It had the buttery flavour but didn't go all the way. The pastry cream was smooth and custardy, but somehow didn't go well with the ever so light pastry. The top layer though, was crispiest among all different layers. I bought two pieces, and I stopped in the midst of the first one...
I looked back at the receipt and realized how much I paid for this, and I am not convinced that what I got is not I paid for. The Napoleon wasn't bad, but the entire experience isn't entirely good to deserve a smiling face. I may not have eaten all the Napoleons in the city to know which one is the best, but to say that this is a good one because everyone seems to think so is inaccurate and a challenge to my integrity for someone who loves to eat like anyone else on here. The service truly is bad, and I can only hope the lady at the shop has put all her efforts into every Napoleon that was made for the business, and left the worries to be projected to the next person who provoked her with kindness. That's how I comforted myself for the rest of that afternoon.
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