There is something about a Croissant

Not just a Croissant. A metaphor for living well!

Croissant, ah!

Pronounced the way the French do (croah-ssahn)... or just Croissant, the way I do.

Help me out here — I might be wandering aimlessly in an intonation wasteland. But honestly, I don’t really give a nickel.

Don't label me as a pretentious snob — I am just a wanderer in search of life-altering truths.

I have the association bias, you see. I like to find patterns and meaning in everything.

The decadent, buttery, flaky layers are comfort wrapped in indulgence.When paired with a knob of butter, a pot of maple syrup, and a cup of coffee, it feels like attaining nirvana in gastronomic heaven.

What is it about the croissant that makes my heart go asunder... my pulse race?

Well, I witnessed it again firsthand this morning at the bread section of the breakfast buffet.

Disembodied, I watched my trembling hands, felt the quiver of food ecstasy, and tingle of the rapturous delight it sent me into.

This is what sweet dreams are made of Annie Lennox — I can’t disagree with you on this.

(Just so we’re on the same page: I’m talking about a croissant here.No Fifty Shades of Grey, I promise.)

But I ponder...Is this anti-matter?(more than just a variable of time and space). Hmm... anti-gravity? Anti-logic, perhaps — for it is calorie-positive, certainly.

It will definitely fast-track my immigration into the land of the dense, sweet, and honey. The West can keep waiting for the prodigal daughter to come.

Is it a tug on the string from some force unknown?What is it trying to tell me?

To appreciate the present.To live in the moment.To allow life to breathe and rise — even when all seems deflated like the dough.

Slathering the croissant with butter is, in my humble opinion,a metaphor for living well.

Who knew enlightenment could arrive at the breakfast table...with your spoon scraping off the last golden dredges from the pot?

(The association bias — forgiven.)

And the takeaway?I like ’em best when served warm... straight off the oven.

Molecularly yours,

Sanjana Curiously Irrepressible