I took Tracie to my favorite restaurant on our second date, way back in the day. It was my favorite restaurant for a number of reasons, but high on the list was their carrot cake. I have never been one to order dessert with dinner (I’ve been reluctant ever since I realized they would charge me for it), but for some reason I had had the carrot cake at this particular establishment. And it was wonderful. Moist cake, and plenty of it. Plump, juicy raisins throughout. A delicious cream-cheese icing, but not too much. Perhaps the best dessert I had ever eaten that had not come out of the kitchen of my mother or grandmother.
Dinner went fine. I was funny. I was engaging. The food was delicious. Things were going so well. And then I suggested dessert. “You have to try the carrot cake,” I said.
That’s when she told me she didn’t like carrot cake.