Macchiato shots

So there I was in the City where I've left my heart pillowed over the years, in fog enshrouded canyons of the Richmond or the Sunset, along the long windy stretches of crusty Ocean beach, under perfumed eucalyptus groves lost in the Presido...waking in a lovely 3 storied home where the bridge spans and the city lights spill into the living room at night, dreaming of only one thing: double pain au chocolat from Tartine bakery. Proust had his madeline. I would have Tartine's decadent morning offering. Walking briskly through Dolores Park at 7:30am with Marisa, was ironic. We are old now, and rise with purpose. Luck benevolently smiled through the morning chill. No line at Tartine. And no double pain au chocolat! Sold out! WTF. Could we wait 20 minutes for the next bake? A wry smile. As I pointed out before, we're old. And patience abounds. We can out wait even the 2nd coming. The good baker delivers my delectable dream and sets it down before me beside my English breakfast. This is the moment I truly miss the wallop of the black Irish tea, but all moments share tiny imperfections. I stare at the shiny bronze pain top. Taking my fingers I pull apart the pastry bread. Steam rises from the bun, and molten chocolate spills forth. Oh baby! Seizure time. The first bite, pornographic. The second bite, moon trajectory. Every flaky morsel fracking other worldly. To my right, Marisa is polishing off her croissant; she said it was the best one she had ever had outside of France. For a sec, I am not computing what it is she is saying. Unconscious and deep into my own private double pain au chocolat Idaho, I am already mentally tucking in for seconds.