In an attempt to appease my craving for anything coconut, I wandered into Tai Cheong, off Lyndhurst Terrace. After choosing my coconut macaroons et tart, I arbitrarily pointed to an egg tart.
Walking out, I decided to save my macaroons for later and broke off a piece of my egg tart, noticing how delightfully the little pie jiggled in my hand as I walked. Stuck it in my mouth, experienced Nirvana. It wasn't the kind of mind-exploding, orgasmic feeling of jubilee. It was something more subtle, a Buddha-happiness.
More acute than contention, more subdued than elation.
Like having "wonderful" explode in your mouth and travel outwards from there, until it tickles your fingers.
It's what I imagine Harry Potter felt like when eating chocolate after his run-in(s) with the dementors.
Tastefully delightful. Texturally perfect. Mind-numbingly, finger-ticklingly delicious.
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