Custard puddings in the Algarve.
A couple of years back, I was on holiday in the Algarve, mostly kicking about looking at old churches and having a culinary tour of the region. Well, trying to, anyway. I'd spunked most of my cash on transport, and didn't have that much left over, certainly not enough to sample the finest delights of Portuguese cooking whenever I wanted. I like fish as much as the next person, but when you're eating cheap salted cod every day for breakfast, it soon starts to pall. After a week of fish, vegetables, nice architecture and vinegary wine, I was getting desperate for something new, something nice.

And, by god, I found it. The holiest of holies. In Praia da Luz. The Pasteis de Nata.

They're basically custard tarts, and widely available throughout the country, but it was the first time I'd come across them; after a week of salty fish, they were a revelation. I was grabbing a coffee in some random cafe, and the waitress brought me a free one. It looked fairly unassuming on the outside, but when I bit into it, it was an almost orgasmic pleasure. And immediately (my mind ever working thus) I wanted an orgasm. A custardy, flaky-pastry orgasm. I bought half a dozen and went back to my hotel room, shuffling awkwardly to hide my arousal.

As soon as I'd locked the door, I flung myself onto the narrow bed, wriggling out of my clothes, gasping in anticipation. With trembling fingers I pulled open the little paper bag, shaking cinnamon powder over my thighs, bits of pastry settling into my damp pubic hair. I brought the first one to my lips, slid my tongue over the smooth face of the custard, before forcing it through the slight resistance of the surface, enveloping my tastebuds in that cool, creamy flood of taste. My groin tingled as I got another little piece of ecstasy from the bag; with a sudden movement, I clenched my fist, crushing the pastry and watching the yellow filling spurt out from my fingers. As I rubbed a further two tartlets onto my erect nipples, my custardy finger played with my groin, taking me to the edge of orgasm, and I stuffed a fifth pudding up my warm, welcoming arsecleft. My climax hit, and as I surrendered to wave after wave of warm, throbbing bliss, I stuffed the last tart in my mouth, savouring the sweetness as I writhed over the bed, leaving eggy stains on the sheets.

As I cleaned myself up, I regretted having only bought 6 of these little delights, having made all but two of them inedible. I was still hungry, but had spent the last of my cash. So I stole a small child from a neighbouring hotel and ate her raw. Yum.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 22:04, 2 replies)

as soon as....
'Praia da Luz'


antispang


still, i now have a semi
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 23:11, closed)

He he
Genius.
(Pope Jamiroquai III, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 23:52, closed)