The Last Bite...Food Porn Inspired by Gaga

Each soft, luscious mouthful of the silken Vanilla Lemon Flan played across  the tongue; it's appeal only made stronger by the intoxicating scent of the lilac honey that dripped lanquidly over it's soft sides.

Alejandro's lips quivered expectantly as the spoon drew nearer, all the senses heightened in anticipation of the next sweetly sinful bite.  He must wait; savor the tantilizing aromas of the sensual vanilla, the light playfulness of the lemon zest and the exotic, delicate nuance of the lilac honey. 

She knows...senses his anticipation and lightly brushes the spoon across his slightly parted lips then draws it away with a sweep of her slender wrist.  "I know that we are young....and I know that you may love me.  But I just can't be with you like this anymore...Alejandro."

She laid down the spoon and put both her hands in her pockets.  She won't look at him...can't look at him.  She hides true love, en su bolsillo.  She's got a dollop of custard on her finger around him.  Slowly and deliberately she licks the sweet confection, a golden drop of honey left on the tip of her tongue...Alejandro wasnts to share it.

"You know that I love you boy...hot like Mexico, rejoice.  But at this point I have to choose...got nothing to lose."  And with that she picked up the spoon and slid the last velvety bite slowly into her mouth...letting it melt a bit before swirling her tongue around to embrace it's sweetness.

He opens his mouth and speaks her name in a tortured, longing moan... "babe" he breaths...

"Please...don't call my name, don't call my name Alejandro.  I'm not your
babe, not your babe.  Don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch." 

She pulls the cigarette from a sterling silver case and lights it with a soft flick of her monogramed lighter.  "Here," she sighs, "just smoke this cigarette and hush but don't call my name...don't call my name. I cannot share with you Alejandro."

"Oh Alejandro...Alejandro.  Ale Ale jandro...."

She leaves him standing there, alone and half naked with the stub of a cigarette in his mouth.  One last drag and as he reaches for the ashtray to extinguish it, he notices the traces of her lipstick left behind on the filter...taunting him.

He turns his gaze to the empty dessert plate; sticky with the residue of lilac honey.  He trails his finger through a small puddle and licks it ...just as she walks out the door.

"She's not broken," he thinks.  "She's just a baby.  But her boyfriends are  like a dad...just like a dad.  All those flames that came before me, gotta do some firefighting...cool the bad..."

One tiny fleck of the custard remains on the spoon.  He cannot resist.  The taste is exquisite.  The cell phone in his pocket feels warm.  He must call...try to bring her back.  Try to convince her to make another custard.  It rings...

When she answers he holds his breath, every nerve ending in his sleek muscular body tensed.  "You know that I love you boy, hot like Mexico.  But at this point I had to chose...the flan or you...and you lose."

"Please, don't call my name, don't call my name Alejandro.  I'm not your babe, not your babe or your pastry chef Alejandro!  I don't want to cook, don't want to touch...just smoke a cigarette and hush.  Don't bother me Alejandro...

Fernando...Roberto or whatever the hell your name is.....just let me go."

All he has left is the memory of the Vanilla Lemon flan's delicate taste, the empty custard cup in his sink and one precious drop of lilac honey on his bare chest.  He shivers...remembering...

Alejandro's dark eyes fill with tears.  It cannot end this way, he thinks.  His fingers ache to punch her number one more time but he knows there is no use...she is gone.  He begins to despair, thinking he will never know that feeling upon his lips again.  He will hunger...he will wither away from unrequieted desire...

Then he sees it; just the tip of a small green card sticking out of a partially open kitchen drawer.  Curiosity and a glimmer of hope quicken him.  With an unsteady hand he reaches out and glides the pad of his thumb over the drawer pull.  Can it be, he wonders?  Could she have left behind........

the recipe?

Alejandro's breath catches in his throat as he reads.  The swirls and loops of her distinctive, seductive handwriting are unmistakable...they curve to form each letter, each word...enveloping you, mesmerizing you, leaving your body aching for... STOP IT STOP IT his brain cries!  He must think only of the custard...

He must preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

Then he must set out 4 individual custard ramekins, dip a pastry brush in warm, soft butter and brush it in each mold.  As he spreads the warm butter over the insides of the ramekins, a memory overtakes him.  It is a scarf draped over the night stand lamp, silk cords on the bed posts, rubber sheets, the current of the ceiling fan raising goose bumps on his bare flesh and her...hands, body..covered in butter...undulating...STOP STOP STOP...he MUST cook!

In a medium bowl he must combine...

1 cup of organic non-fat dry milk powder

3 tablespoons of Xylitol natural sweetener

2 packets individual packets of Stevia natural sweetener (a heaping teaspoons if using loose powder)

1/4 cup organic liquid whole egg substitute

organic liquid egg whites (Nature Valley) equivalent to 3 large egg whites

1 2/3 cup water

1/2 teaspoon vanilla bean paste (may sub 1 teaspoon of extract)

1 1/2 teaspoons pure lemon extract

2 teaspoons freshly grated lemon peel

Lilac or Heather Honey for the top

lemon wheels for garnish.

He must whisk all the ingredients together until the dry milk powder and the xylitol have dissolved.  Then Alejandro divides the custard evenly between the four buttered ramekins.  

He places them in a 9x13 baking pan and sets them on the center rack in his oven.  Then he pours hot tap water around them until the water comes halfway up the sides, taking care not to pour any water into the ramekins.

He closes the oven door to wait; 55 minutes.  It is torture.  The water bath has set his mind adrift again.  This time to a hot tub, her wearing a dress made out of bubble wrap, stiletto heels...her HUGE eyes with their unnaturally large pupils and two sets of false eyelashes...making her look like a cupie doll.  The nurses come and force her to drink her own bath water...and he waits on a big white bed.  He is pretty certain he died that night...he remembers her coming toward the bed wrapped in a huge polar bear throw.  She drops it to reveal a bra that spits fire..and he awakens from a strange dream in which she is lying beside his charred remains smoking a cigarette from the sterling silver case...and laughing.   

The timer on the oven brings him out of his reverie.  His head still feels a little full of cobwebs so he must be extremely careful when he removes the pan full of hot water from the oven.  He must exercise caution...don't want another third degree burn ( like the time she wanted to play with hot wax and bengay). 

Alejandro lets the custards cool to room temperature and them puts them into the refrigerator to chill for several hours.  When at last it is time...he takes them out and runs a little knife around the edges of each, dips them briefly in some warm tap water and inverts them onto dessert plates. 

The exotic lilac honey waits...he warms it gently in the microwave and then ever so slowly, drizzles two teaspoons over the tops of the custards.  It runs over the sides and pools on the plates.  He garnishes each with a lemon wheel and then stands back to admire his work.

They are lovely to be sure but will they taste like hers?  Will they taunt and tease his tastebuds?  Will they beckon him from sleep in the middle of the night to come and rescue them from the cold, dark confines of the fridge?  Will he stand there naked in his kitchen, honey running down his chin?  Probably...

Will he miss her?  Not anymore.....