Dirty Desserts

D and I were out to lunch last week for a break away from the office stomping grounds. It was at a lovely little Latin cafe. A fancy-ish one. Y'know, where they line up impressive (and impossibly fatty) pastries and cakes in the outer window. A line of artistic sweets that scream, "You wish you could eat me." And dammit. They're right. The arrogant tarts.

After D and I had finished a fantastic lunch (in the normal cafe area), we had to walk by the tempting desserts that were arrayed along a glass panel leading towards the exit. Each one was sumptuous looking with yummified this and sugar-topped that.

We browsed hesitantly. I was certain not to buy one. I couldn't. I wasn't good enough. But D charged on gallantly. He looked at the cakes and even though he wanted something the cakes weren't doing it for him. Then I saw them. The profiteroles. I prodded D and asked him about the cream-filled puffs.

"I don't know," D said, "Profiterole is such a dirty word."

"Is it? I've never thought of it as dirty or clean. It's just yummy, creamy pastry with chocolate sauce."

"Nah, I don't like to eat them because they just seem so dirty."

"Hmm. Profiteroles. The dirtiest of desserts. Yeah, I can sort of see it."

Hilarious. I've never thought of particular desserts as being dirty. Is it in a literally dirt-grimy-needs-to-be-soaped-down type of way? Or is it a sexual thing? Am I missing the boat completely? D didn't go on to elaborate but I find it very amusing that profiteroles are at the top of the dirty dessert list.

What about creme brulee? That sounds a bit dirty to me. And it's French. Or perhaps peanut butter ice cream? Everything just tossed in willy nilly and swirled around a bit. Tastes fantastic. I don't honestly know how profiteroles fought their way to the top.