The clock struck one in the afternoon when we decided to treat ourselves to a small luxury amidst our routine. It had been an intense morning of work, and both my wife and I needed a break. So, spontaneously, we walked through the door of "La Mesa Feliz," a cozy neighborhood café whose aroma of home-cooked food always drew us in from the sidewalk.
The place was as warm as I remembered. We sat in a corner, at a table with a red and white checkered tablecloth that made us smile. In the air floated, undoubtedly, the tempting smell of tomato, garlic, and fresh herbs. We didn't even need to look at the menu; our stomachs had already decided for us. We were going to have spaghetti for lunch.
When the plates arrived, it was a true work of culinary art. My spaghetti Bolognese boasted a thick, rich sauce with juicy ground meat and a generous sprinkling of Parmesan cheese. My wife's, carbonara, had that characteristic creaminess which promised an intense flavor. We picked up our forks and, almost in unison, twirled the first strands of pasta. The flavor was a direct journey to comfort. Every bite was an explosion of authentic, comforting flavors. We didn't speak, we just ate, exchanging complicit smiles and nodding our heads in a tacit agreement that we had made the right choice.
After cleaning our plates to the last trace of sauce, we looked at each other with that full satisfaction that a good meal leaves behind. But the ritual couldn't end there. "How about a coffee with a piece of cake?" she proposed. It was the perfect finishing touch. The waiter recommended the orange cake, and it was, indeed, a masterful choice.
The final moment arrived: two steaming cups of black, aromatic coffee, accompanied by two generous slices of cake. The contrast was sublime. The stimulating bitterness of the coffee melted in our mouths with the spongy, citrusy sweetness of the dessert. In that instant, between sips and bites, the outside world seemed to stop. It wasn't just coffee and cake; it was the extension of a moment of connection, a small celebration of our love in the midst of everyday life.
Paying the bill was almost a trivial formality. What was truly worthwhile was priceless: the pause, the delicious food, the flowing conversation, and the certainty that, sometimes, the simplest plans—some spaghetti and a coffee—are the ones that fill your soul and remind you that happiness is found in these small, shared things.
y mother tongue is Spanish, I use it to translate into English with DeepL https://www.deepl.com
