I can see the future in my Portuguese Egg Tarts
Something big is about to happen. I can feel it in the way the trees rustle before the breeze brushes against your face. It's that twinge of anticipation that happens right before you get to the top of the mountain, when you know that what you're about to see is going to be grand, but you're not quite sure what it is yet. It's the silence between when the house lights dim and the orchestra sounds its first note. It's the rush of a magical first date.
Or maybe all the Portuguese egg tarts I've been eating have permanently altered my brain chemistry, because a fresh Pastel de Nata from Pasteis de Belem must be the official food of the Gods. The flaky, sugar-glassed pastry layers contrast so well with the rich, warm yolk custard, that you feel like God put you on this earth just to remind you that for an eggy moment, everything is beautiful. I meant to eat two, and then I ate five. The more you eat, the better they get, and soon whatever is troubling you slips away into the blue and white tiled walls. If someone could manage to infuse them with a few magic mushrooms and distribute them across the entire planet, I'm pretty sure we could achieve world peace. Or at least, world piece.
If it's not the egg tarts, I'm not sure which part of my life is going to be responsible for this shift. In a few days, I'm following a hunch to Barcelona to work with a new startup called Keychn. I'm seriously considering moving to Cambodia in April, to follow a personal hunch. My Chopped episode airs tonight at 10pm EST, and who knows what that will bring. At least, I hope it will bring a few book sales, because the world needs boozy cupcakes during these trying times.
Or perhaps, none of these things will bring a major change. Perhaps something else entirely will come along, or maybe nothing at all. The past five months have already altered the course of my entire life. Maybe I'm just now feeling the ripples of the boulder I dropped into my life back in August, when I took a one way flight to Kuala Lumpur. Only now, 160 days in, do I feel like I've figured out how to balance this odd little existance. Maybe this feeling of something big on the horizon, is simply the anticipation of...life itself.
Or another egg tart. It might just be the tarts. I'm okay with that.