Megan P.
Yelp
For as long as I can remember, I've had had an absolutely killer sweet tooth. Over the course of my two decades and change on this planet, I've met very few people whose appetites for sweetness match mine. As a child I remember this taste for sugar feeing almost insatiable, as if no amount of sucrose could possibly leave me without wanting more. And so to this day, when someone asks me my favorite food, the answer is a simple one: it's cake, of course.
Imagine my bliss when I first arrived in Vienna, a city I had chosen to travel to while knowing admittedly little about what I'd find. From the first day I spent there, I was spellbound by Vienna's timeless charm -- the exquisite palaces, the flawlessly manicured gardens, the unwavering devotion to the arts. (How could I say no to nosebleed seats at the opera?) The rich and very tangible history of the place made me feel utterly and completely spellbound, like I had ripped a little tear in the time space continuum and ended up in a place I shouldn't be.
I'd spent the week hopping from landmark to landmark -- from the Belvedere Palace to the famed Hotel Sacher, from the Spanish Riding School to the site of Mozart's grave. I had learned far too much about the complicated and tragic tale of the nineteenth-century empress Sisi and seen far too many of her impossibly tiny-waisted gowns. I'd taken audio tours up the wazoo and seen so many pieces of furniture that I could have considered myself an anthropologist. It seemed, though, that there was still something waiting to be explored, yet I didn't quite know what it was until I stumbled upon it on my way out of the Hofburg.
There it stood, gleaming like a little diamond on the cobbled street before me -- the brown awning shading a bustling patio and elaborate large windows with goodies visible on the other side of the glass. My mouth watered when I took hold of the masterpieces being shuttled across the patio on little plates. Thankfully, it was just about time for my afternoon sweet treat. How serendipitous!
Upon strolling in, what hit me even before the deliriously delightful mélange of aromas was just how stunning this place was. A palette of pastels infused everything with a hint of springtime, and the elaborate gold details on the molding made me feel like I was back in Belvedere Palace. For a moment, I felt as if Sisi herself could be sitting at one of these tables, sporting a lavish gown and sipping on a tiny cappuccino.
Imagine my shock when I laid eyes on the pastry case. From undeniable classics like apfelstrudel and sachertorte to concoctions like punschkrapferl and biskottentorte that were wholly unbeknownst to me, it nearly took my breath away. If I could have, I would have shrunk myself down and lived out the rest of my days in that pastry case. Of course, limited by the laws of physics as I am, I decided that ordering something would be a close second.
I chose the annatorte because I was fascinated by the ribbon-like design around the perimeter of the cake. It was one of the most beautiful cakes I had ever laid my eyes upon, and let me tell you that these eyes are no stranger to gorgeous cakes. After taking the first bite I found that it was phenomenal and unexpected, although I couldn't seem to place the flavors no matter how hard I tried. It wasn't until I was nearly finished that I resorted to Google, learning that the staple flavors are nougat and orange liquour. A surprise but a pleasant one, much like my entire week in Vienna had been. By this point in my travels, I was learning that getting caught off guard was part and parcel of exploring the world -- for better or worse, but usually for the better.
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