Fried Cream! Wow...I haven't thought about that in years. It was the perfect dessert for a young pyromaniac, resplendant in it's presentation and lascivious in it's content. I mean, how often can a kid get served booze and torch something at the table all in one bite. I can remember first having this delight at Veneto's (just moments away, at Mason and Bay) in the Doll Room. While I much prefered the Grotto, it was my sister's birthday so we got to sit it what resembled Chucky's wettest dream and feast on boneless squab and wild rice and fried cream for dessert. Seems I have become my parents...no, I am not blessed with young gastronomically-overindulged kids but I find myself believing nothing is as good as it once was: restuarants, music, movie theaters, you name it. Maybe cars and stereos are better and cheaper but seemingly only when I play pre-1970 vintages. Perhaps forgetfullness is really a blessing God gives us to cope with the present. Pehaps memories are like flaming brandy, to be spooned over something greasy, sweet and creamy, adding just a touch of warmth and flavor while evaporating before our very eyes.