Can a man reach his custard limit?
Last week, I enjoyed a vanilla custard with poached fig on Thursday, October 6. The plan, however, had been to try the Pumpkin Pie custard. Upon arrival, I discovered that I had mixed up the days and the Pumpkin Pie custard was served on Fridays, not Thursdays. Gasp. I did what any reasonable man would do: that is, I had a different custard - in this case, the vanilla with poached fig mixed in - and resolved to return the following day to consume the Pumpkin Pie custard.
And return I did. On Friday, October 7, I arrived once more at the Upper West Side Shack Shack, my palace. It was the Return of the King, if you will. I ordered a Pumpkin Pie custard with shortbread mixed in and a healthy topping of fabulous whipped cream. Dear friend, for the duration of my consumption of the Pumpkin Pie custard, my earthly kingdom and the heavenly kingdom merged. It was absolutely the perfect fall treat. So simple, yet so divine. It was a cool night, and I had no choice but to be happy, despite the utter meaninglessness of life.
Sunday, October 9. I go to the Shake Shack, yet again. I indulge in a nice hot dog, topped with cheese sauce and fried onions. I also enjoy some french fries. The Shake Shack fries are crinkle-cut fries. I know some have denigrated these fries, and these individuals can go to hell. Upon finishing my meal, I then turn to custard. I decide to go with vanilla and poached fig once more.
And now, friends, we come to the heart of this story, the inscrutable center which can be pointed to but not actually spoken, for only that which is tangible can be spoken, and all else must be passed over in silence. Can a man reach his custard limit? Is there a point at which custard loses its power? If such a limit exists, I came perilously close this past Day of Sun. My plan is currently to abstain from custard until Friday, when Pumpkin Pie returns. At that point I will be powerless to resist. I am hoping that I enjoy it as much as I did a week ago. If not, god help me.
Gold help all of us, when you come to think of it.