It has come to my notice that in this world of complimentary therapies of every sort and shade you can think of, there is a gap.
A big gap.
A yawning gap.
What has happened to dessert therapy?
'Dessert therapy?' I hear you ask,
'Who needs therapy for something so wonderful?'.
My only answer to that is, 'everyone'!
Take, for example, the torturous decision between being offered both banoffee pie and cheesecake to follow the main course of a meal.
Incredibly, this is a real life situation that happened to me only a couple of days ago. My eyes cast around for a clue as to which dessert I should settle for. Could I find fault in the banoffee pie? A meanness in the cream topping, a lack of banana submerged in the toffee filling?
Perhaps the cheesecake would be too thick around the base?
But no, both desserts looked perfect. My torture was to continue.
'Therapy' I shouted, 'I need therapy'. Luckily a kind hearted soul at the table offered to have a go at dessert therapy. As she quickly and expertly uncovered a lifelong yearning for banoffee pie, I was relieved to realise I could select this with ease.
However, more trauma was to follow.
The base was TOO CRUNCHY.
'Help' I shouted, 'the base is too crunchy!'
I was struggling to get my spoon to crack through the compacted crumb.
My amateur therapist again came to my aid, uttering soothing phrases and suggesting that next meal time I start on soft puddings, and build up my confidence before attempting a biscuit base again.
It was good advice. I have just successfully eaten some chocolate ice cream, alone and without the need for counselling.
A big gap.
A yawning gap.
What has happened to dessert therapy?
'Dessert therapy?' I hear you ask,
'Who needs therapy for something so wonderful?'.
My only answer to that is, 'everyone'!
Take, for example, the torturous decision between being offered both banoffee pie and cheesecake to follow the main course of a meal.
Incredibly, this is a real life situation that happened to me only a couple of days ago. My eyes cast around for a clue as to which dessert I should settle for. Could I find fault in the banoffee pie? A meanness in the cream topping, a lack of banana submerged in the toffee filling?
Perhaps the cheesecake would be too thick around the base?
But no, both desserts looked perfect. My torture was to continue.
'Therapy' I shouted, 'I need therapy'. Luckily a kind hearted soul at the table offered to have a go at dessert therapy. As she quickly and expertly uncovered a lifelong yearning for banoffee pie, I was relieved to realise I could select this with ease.
However, more trauma was to follow.
The base was TOO CRUNCHY.
'Help' I shouted, 'the base is too crunchy!'
I was struggling to get my spoon to crack through the compacted crumb.
My amateur therapist again came to my aid, uttering soothing phrases and suggesting that next meal time I start on soft puddings, and build up my confidence before attempting a biscuit base again.
It was good advice. I have just successfully eaten some chocolate ice cream, alone and without the need for counselling.
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