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By Ammara Mohsin 

Q. Describe a food and the memories associated with it.

I place the chocolate brownie gently on the round, white platter. On top of it, I place a scoop of silky ice cream. It stands like a magnificent white globe, studded with nuts on top of the brown cushion. Next, I pour a spoonful of the dark chocolate sauce, and it flows like rich, hot lava, causing the ice cream to drop beads of white on the cake.

The soft, alluring aroma wafts through my nose. I can no longer resist.

My spoon penetrates through the chocolate-capped ice cream, and digs into the soft cake sponge. Without hesitation, I put it in my mouth.

The combination of the sweet lava and the nutty, sugary snow, together with the fluffy sponge, tastes like heaven. One second, it’s warm and fuzzy in my mouth; the other, cool and refreshing. I chew it scrumptiously, savouring the last of the flavours, and then swallow it, wanting my insides to taste the divine delight too.

The Cake Alaska always reminds me of my mother and father; one warm, the other cool; one velvety, the other tough; one subdued the other daring. It demonstrates to me how two of the most unlikely and opposite of elements, when put together, make the most perfect and once-in-a-lifetime combinations. They complement each other, make up for each other’s shortcomings and fill in each other’s empty spaces.

No, they aren’t perfect. There are times when the bitterness of the dark chocolate overpowers the sweetness of the ice cream. It happens quite often. But after the spoonful has somehow made its way down your throat, you’re left with nothing but sweet, creamy relish, and a sugary smile.

I love them. Oh, and I love the Cake Alaska too!