Finding Joy

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Crème Brûlée @ Intelligentsia, Venice

At the Coffee Shop, Dan knows I’ll order a Cappuccino and then look longingly at the Crème Brûlée with my nose pressed against the glass-case.

Let’s get this straight: I don’t know how to pronounce Crème Brûlée. I always say it softly and slowly “Crem-Bruley”. In the glass case at the counter, it’s just Custard waiting to be christened Crème Brûlée with a blow-torch. Sometimes I point at it, lower my head, mumble Crem a little loudly and then eat up the Bruley. Dan the Barista will then repeat my order and I’ll repeat it a little more confidently, ‘Crème Brûlée’. “One of those?” “Yes, Yes” and I shake my head like a puppy who’s just seen her Mama after a long day.

Till my next visit to the Coffee Shop, I say “Crème Brûlée” over and over in my head. Damnit, I have to get this right.

Maybe if I say it everyday for 21 days.