Old Favorites

Summary

A woman reconnects with her high school sweetheart over a nostalgic dinner, only to realize her tastes have changed and their relationship is no longer as sweet as it once seemed.

Abstract

The narrative recounts a woman's reunion with her past love at their once-favored restaurant, where they revisit their shared history over a meal. Initially, the woman is swept up in the romance of their old routine, but as they indulge in their traditional dessert, tiramisu, she is struck by a change in her palate, both for the dessert and for her companion. The story reflects on the bittersweet nature of revisiting old favorites, whether it be food or friendships, acknowledging that people and their preferences can evolve, leading to endings that are as inevitable as they are poignant.

Opinions

The author suggests that the woman's rekindled romance is initially as enticing as their shared dessert, but the sweetness quickly turns cloying, symbolizing her changed feelings.
There is a nostalgic appreciation for the past, as seen in the detailed recollection of the couple's history and their choice of dining at "their" restaurant.
The woman's perspective on the tiramisu serves as a metaphor for her relationship, indicating that what once was appealing may no longer hold the same allure.
The author expresses a personal preference for American desserts over Italian pastries, despite a general fondness for Italian cuisine.
The narrative conveys a sense of loss and resignation regarding the woman's friendship with Michael, highlighting the impact of time and change on relationships.
The author reflects on the idea that some people remain constant while others change, and this can affect the dynamics of past relationships when revisited.

In memoriam: one of many

I once read a short story in which a young woman chanced upon her high school sweetheart, whom she hadn’t seen since they’d parted four years prior. She took this fortuitous meeting as a sign that they were meant to be.

Hoping to return to the way they were, they returned to where they oft had been: “their” restaurant. They requested to be seated at “their” table and ordered their cheesy old favorites, veal for him, eggplant for her.

Whilst they waited, they played a quick catch-up, recapping their four years apart. Whilst they ate, they played a leisurely look-back, revisiting their four years together.

They zestfully reminisced about their customary indulgence: tiramisu. Oh! how sweet it was, the woman recalled in anticipation— when dessert arrived, she was back in love at first bite. Then — oh! too sweet it is — the woman winced upon the second.

She soon realized it wasn’t the recipe but rather her taste that had changed; her taste not only in date-night desserts, but in the date that came with the main course.

Though the eggplant was luscious as ever; the guy on the side had lost his appeal. Some people never change, and perhaps he was one of them. But some people do change, and she, for certain, was one of them.

After he’d scarfed down the tiramisu-for-two and paid up, the two parted with pleasantries and vague plans for a next time that was never meant to be.

Tiramisu was never my go-to dessert, nor its ricotta-filled cousins. Despite my passion for everything garbed in red sauce and glopped with cheese, I pass on Italian pastries. Ricotta stuffed in cannelloni— YES! Stuffed in cannoli — no. Though Italy is the virtual land in which I love to dine, I defect for the good old USA for dessert. Sundaes, brownies, and other gooey goodies.

My erstwhile best friend, Michael, and I enjoyed a tad of cake with our frosting. For his birthday, his mother would swap the proportions: three parts frosting to one part cake. How Michael and I loved those annual treks to Sludge City!

That was ten years ago, before our ugly falling out — in the aftermath of which Michael’s mother decreed I was no longer welcome. Though he and I tentatively repaired our rift, the friendship has remained strained in large part because of his mother’s decree, which she hasn’t seen fit to revoke — though she’s graciously allowed Michael to bring me a hunk of his cake.

I take a pass. Unlike the lady who introduced this story, who found her old favorite overly sweet, I find mine —triple fudge frosting notwithstanding — not nearly sweet enough. A tad bitter, in truth.

So much for old favorites.