sometimes you see her. you know nothing about her, not even her name, but she stands there so demurely, sweetly even, and you have to find out more. maybe you turn to the man watching over her, and ask. he screws up his face as he tries to remember the sum of her parts.

“coffee sticky rice,” he said “lemon creme, blood orange jelly…” honestly, he had me at the sticky rice; i may even have whimpered. but i left her behind. and then the regret set in.

i was back the next day — we’re talking adriano zumbo of course — because i really wanted a chorizo-olive baguette for lunch, but when i saw her glowing behind the glass, it was clear that she had won me over. not the thing with the apricots and apples, rolled in white chocolate and pistachios; not even the giant green macaron sandwiched with berries and basil-lime creme could sway me.

in the quiet afternoon, i worked my way through the layers: the blood orange jelly was intensely tart, and adorned with a flutter of tiny petals; the lemon creme felt full and fat on my tongue, and then dissipated completely — a wonderful mystery; there was a curious layer which seemed to be a spongy coconut foam; and a thin layer of coffee-ish jelly almost like the coffee agar agar from my childhood; and then the sticky rice…

which, meh, was my least favourite bit. it wasn’t creamy as i expected: the rice grains were a little al dente, and the stuff surrounding it foamy rather than lush. tchk.

what was lush, was the lemon creme. i could eat bowls of this. because it is hard to isolate this pale yellow layer from the others. i tasted each layer on its own, and then paired with each of the others. i tried to make the lemon creme last, but it kept gliding into each little spoonful i took from the glass.

so next on the list, i suppose, is the brioche donut filled with lemon creme. and here i was thinking i should cut down on the zumbo trips. anyway. i did get the chorizo baguette as well, so that should do me for the rest of the week.