There once was a charming little downtown cafe that I adored for years, aptly named 'Bittersweet.' Unfortunately, its demise was prompted by relocation of the city's central hub and the economy, in that order.
One interior wall was original brick and was always dotted with framed creations from area artists. Its uneven texture created the perfect backdrop for ornately-carved and refurbished antique sideboards that always stood guard in front of it. These portly credenzas, consistently laden with ever-changing interesting artifacts, created perfect nooks and crannies throughout the room. At lunchtime conversations flourished across wooden tables stained to match; positive energy so very palpable at the noon hour. Each intimate unit's focal point contained a few sprigs of fresh seasonal flowers, which, by themselves warmed the soul immediately.
External window flower boxes held the latest season's floral treasures...always a feast for the eyes. During summer, they overlooked a small park of sidewalk tables and chairs shaded by huge umbrellas, extending the same inviting ambiance out in to the street. Sometimes these windows would be strewn with the magical atmosphere created by white twinkling lights under moonlight. Other times, hung from them, wind chimes crafted of twisted silver forks and spoons indulged the melodic appetites of patrons.
Yes, their warm, frothy lattes, homemade bread and thick clam chowder were absolutely delicious...but what I miss most of all was the absolutely perfect apple crisp of all time. It was the best I had ever had the pleasure of tasting...better than your Mother's or better than your Grandmother's recipe. The apples were sliced so thin and uniform which, in and of itself, was enough to marvel at. But, coupled with it's aesthetic value was some sort of magic combination of just the right kind of sweet/tart apples, butter, flour, sugars, cinnamon, oats and nuts baked to perfection and then all topped off by a dreamy dollop of cold, homemade whipped cream...well, whatever culinary expertise was used to create it, it was simply and utterly superb in every way imaginable.
Bittersweet, indeed, now that I can only rely on memory to remind me
that such a splendid quaint restaurant existed...whose legendary
essence, at least, still lives on.
©2011 Debbie Ballard
