A Promise of the Sweetest Tomorrow

I remember reading a passage in a book titled In Search of Lost Times where the author, Marcel Proust, describes a scene where he eats a little madeleine cake and is immediately thrown into an involuntary memory. In his memory, he is eating madeleines with his aunt on a Sunday as a young boy. He argues that taste and smell are heavily connected to memory and from my own lovely experiences, I can agree. For me, a simple blueberry pastry is tied to a crowd of my own complex emotions and beautiful memories. That pastry is my petite madeleine. There are three memories that I'm abruptly thrown into now whenever I take a bite of a warm blueberry pastry on a cold day.

The First Memory

There's a little coffee shop in the heart of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania called "Little Amps". They host live musical performances and serve a wonderful array of delicious treats. I found myself there for the first time one brisk evening to catch a performance. A few of my friends were performing and so I took a trip from upstate New York to the state capital of Pennsylvania to see their live performance. I remember being excited, I remember feeling cheerful, and I remember being very cold.

I went to the back of the cafe and asked the barista if he could give me something warm. I thought that he'd put a cup before me but instead, he placed a plate, and on top of the plate was a delightful looking blueberry pastry. I thought it was strange but I was appreciative. He told me that it tastes best warm and directed me to the little toaster oven that stood in the corner of the shop. I remember scurrying over to the toaster oven before someone else could. I was just so excited to taste the treat.

While I waited for my pastry to warm in the oven, I heard someone call out to me from a table that was in the far right corner of the shop. I walked over and immediately recognized the face. It was a friend from a long time ago.

Jada.

We met my freshman year in high school and became the best of friends. We lost contact when I moved from Harrisburg back to upstate New York in the spring of 2012. I remember being so distraught over leaving her after we've gotten so close. Seeing her again was strange and nostalgic, melancholic yet joyful. In the instant that I recognized that it was her, I could see the thousands of memories that we collected over time flash on the screen of my mind. I could also feel all the emotion as if I was re-living the actual moments over again. It was incredible.

When I returned to retrieve my pastry, it was wonderfully warm. The faint scent of blueberry danced around me as I took my first bite. It was warm, it was delicious, it was a symbol. I spent the remainder of the night eating blueberry pastries and watching live performances by my friends. It was a good night. I was happy.

In the fall of 2019, I began trying to re-make the blueberry pastry that I had at Little Amps. I had missed the taste and I had missed the happy feelings I had associated with the pastry. Around this time I had just separated from someone I loved very much.

Bruce.

We spent the beautiful spring of 2019 together and my time with him, though short, was an honest dream. That dream ended abruptly and the weeks after that flew by me quite quickly. The next thing I really remember was it being the middle of October and the weather had just gotten significantly colder. At this time, I remember feeling dispirited, I remember feeling stuck, and I remember being cold. I wanted something that could warm me from the inside out, and the first thing that came to my mind was the blueberry pastry from Little Amps given to me by that strange barista. I searched online and found a few recipes for simple vegan blueberry pastries.

The Second Memory

Pretty soon after, I was in a crowded kitchen with my sister listening to lovely folk music blaring from my little speaker and making blueberry pastries. The recipe is quite simple:

Vegan Blueberry Pastries Recipe

1 box of frozen vegan puff pastry

1 can of blueberry pie filling

2 tbsp of powdered sugar (topping)

And the making of the pastry is also uncomplicated. The puff pastry is to be filled with the pie filling and then enclosed with a fork, baked according to the directions on the puff pastry packaging, and then topped with powdered sugar.

Afraid that I would never see him again, I recall thinking of Bruce and our time together throughout the whole time that I was making the pastries. I remember admiring how he was so connected to the beauty of this world and his surroundings. It inspired me. He was my introduction to the true beauty that I could experience in this life. I never knew so much joy. And I found it so interesting how he could have so much influence over my life in so little time. It was incredible.

After taking the pastries from out of the oven, I remember tasting one and immediately being thrown back into the cold night of the performances at Little Amps. The pastry was like a tiny time machine. I could hear the music, I could feel the cool air, and I could see the face of the barista. I remembered Jada and how she, being a figure of my long-ago past that I thought I'd never see again, was sitting before me in the flesh on that day. The memory gave me faith that I'd also see Bruce again. The simple blueberry pastry became a symbol of faith that I would see the ones I love again. I spent the rest of that evening eating blueberry pastries and moving through my memories on the screen of my mind.

The Third Memory

The next time I would have a blueberry pastry would be on a late November evening while I was waiting for the train in 15-degree weather. It was extremely cold and I was happy to have a few things to warm me up. I was glad that I had on a warm coat, I was pleased to have had warm tea, and I was happy that my blueberry pastry from the train station cafe was still quite warm. But I was gladdest of all to have Bruce sitting next to me, keeping me warm and sharing the warm pastry with me. I remember being happy, I remember feeling appreciative, and I remember being warm.