bitter

I love bitter.

"It's herb poached halibut and braised cardoons," he said, setting the dish before us with more than a bit of hopeful pride. You could tell he wanted us to like it as much as he did. Then, he got shy, and took care to mention the dishes bitterness several times. To make sure, i guess, that we knew, that he knew, it was bitter---"it's supposed to be like that," i finally said in an attempt to relieve his awkwardness and inability to express, in words, his own dish. "Yeah," he said and slinked back to the kitchen. Not quite sure enough to wait a moment and watch us take a bite.

It was bitter. Deliciously so, and I sopped up every bit of broth chasing around soft pieces of cardoons, and forking just the right amount of sweet, fatty, halibut to balance out my bite. I was sad to see the dish end and when he finally came back from the kitchen I couldn't resist squeezing his hand and trying to thank him, a little bit unable to explain, in words, my own reaction to the dish.